#jerry what are you wearing

[giddlygoat]

i’m my mind, mario’s casual fits are all checkered low-top vans, jorts and “eat sleep game repeat” or racing tour shirts and luigi looks like he puts granola in his yogurt. like visor caps and fanny packs. i’m talking socks with the sandals, people

[gooseshnock]

Silly guys in glasses.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Love Game

[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]

Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in

Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t

Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.

Word Count: 8K

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“That fucking kid.”

You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it.  He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time. 

Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.

“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”

Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.

“Scott!”

You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder. 

Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut. 

You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.

“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head. 

“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.

You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.

Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen. 

“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”

Shit. 

“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”

If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?

You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it. 

You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.

“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”

“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze. 

“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”

You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.

“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”

You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet. 

“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Ah, there it is.

“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.

“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”

You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.

“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”

“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”

“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.

“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.

You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book. 

“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“

“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”

He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.

I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.

Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?

You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.

“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.

Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?

“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”

“Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”

You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.

You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down. 

You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’

You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand. 

“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”

Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.

“Ready? And…go!”

He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.

“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.

He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him. 

You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air. 

“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?

“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”

Nope, definitely different. 

You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan. 

“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.

“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “

You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.

“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”

He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.

“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”

You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it. 

“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.

“Aw, pretty girl -“

You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face. 

“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.

His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.

“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”

You still had his shirt in your tight grip.

“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.” 

You sighed and finally let him go.

“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird.”

“You were the one flirting with me.”

“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Sure, you will.”

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You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.

“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.

You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.

“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.

Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.

You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.

“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.

“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.

“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”

“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”

You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes. 

“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”

He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”

That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.

“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”

She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.

“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”

You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.

You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door. 

“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.

You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.

“In a way? Kind of.”

Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.

“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”

“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.

“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.

“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”

You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”

You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.

“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”

Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs. 

“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.

Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer. 

He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.

‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’

Except that you knew damn well it was a lie. 

“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.

“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”

You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got that right.”

You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.

“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.

“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. 

“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”

“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”

“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?” 

Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”

You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”

“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”

“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”

“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”

“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”

“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table. 

“I think you’ll prove me right.”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we betting, exactly?”

“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”

“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”

With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.

“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”

You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you. 

“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.

“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”

You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care. 

You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”

“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”

“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”

He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”

He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.

So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.

Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.

You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.

You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately. 

He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.

You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.

“Oh, so, what do you do there?” 

“Well, I own it.”

You squinted and sat up straight.

“You own the company.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him.  She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.

“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”

You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.

“You know what? Sure, why not.”

You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.

You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face. 

You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”

“We don’t even know each other's names.”

“Do we have to?”

You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.

“You can kiss me.”

He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.

Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.

“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”

You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.

“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.

“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.

“Yeah. Get lost.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.

You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.

‘What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.

“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”

“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”

You were nearly shouting at each other.

He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”

“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”

You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”

You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.

Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.

“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”

“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”

You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.

“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.

You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.

“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”

You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.

“So…you -“ 

His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.

“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head. 

“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.

His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”

You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.

“You mean it? All of it?”

You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.

“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”

His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”

“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.

“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”

“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

His expression was as smug as could be.

“That you still like me? Yeah.”

“How? Am I that obvious?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”

You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.

“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?” 

He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.

“I won the bet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”

“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead. 

He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.

“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.

Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.

“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.

Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.

“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.

“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you. 

You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.

“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”

He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.

“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”

He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.

“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.

“No - no, ma’am.”

It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second. 

“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”

You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail. 

“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.

“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”

You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly. 

“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”

He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.

He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.

“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.

“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.

He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.

“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.

“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”

You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.

You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.

“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself. 

“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”

You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.

“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.

“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”

He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”

He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours. 

“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.

You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.

He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.

“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.

He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again. 

“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“

His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.

You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him. 

“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”

“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”

He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.

You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.

He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.

“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.

“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.

He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ -  please, I need you.”

The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.

“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?” 

He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.

“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.

“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’  about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.

“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.

He groaned at full volume again.

“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.

“Open.”

He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.

“Good kitty.”

He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.

“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”

The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.

“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on. 

“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.

His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.

“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.

He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room. 

“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”

Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.

“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”

The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.

His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.

“Love you so much.”

He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.

“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”

Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.

His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.

“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”

He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.

“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.

“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.

You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.

“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.

He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.

“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.

“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.

You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”

You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help. 

“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”

Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”

You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.

“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”

“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”

“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”

“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.” 

“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.

“Neither of you ever believed us!”

“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle. 

“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it

Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3

[geroya]

also very confused about this 'puce' thing bc charley's friend mentioned it with his shoes & now jerry is doing it but he's being weird about it, jerry weird (obviously) & is it bc it's french for flea?

[darkbluekies]

Giving the yanderes the 'break, bite, bang' chocolate

Warnings: suggestive talk lol

A/N: it's new years, so why not joke around a little for the last day?

Silas:

Giving him a bite without his knowledge would be like watching a lion find its prey. He would catch on quickly, realizing your little prank. You would be able to see the change in his eyes, minute for minute, his black eyes becoming a bottomless pit. If the two of you were around other people, you would feel his eyes burn into your soul, waiting for the moment until he could snatch you away. And the second he does ...

"You think you're so funny, don't you? Oh, trust me, you're going to deal with me until this wears off."

Dr Kry:

He would have eaten it by mistake, not even knowing why he had it. He needed something sweet after a long shift and grabbed the first thing he could find. He wouldn't have known what was going on and would have freaked out. It wasn't until he picked up the packaging again that he realized.

"Where did I get these from? Alright, no panic, I can take care of this. I should not go into Y/N's room. How embarrassing ... where's the nearest bathroom?"

King Edmund:

He would have been the one to suggest it. You share a piece and see how long you can hold out, a game to see who folds first. Edmund wanted to see you beg, but would be the one to break first.

"Fine, I admit defeat, fucks sake. You win, okay? I don't care what you do, just touch me before I fucking die!"

Jerry:

She would be the one to trick you into eating it and then reject your efforts. You'd cry, begging her to help you and she would sit in an armchair, watch you closely and give you false pity, wearing a pleased smirk on her face.

"Poor thing, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? You look like you're in pain. Tell me what's hurting, and I'll make it better. Maybe."

Hedwig:

One of her friends would have gotten her the box as a jokeful birthday present and she would have underestimated the effect. It would quickly break her down, but she would be too embarrassed to tell you ... until she literally couldn't control herself anymore. She'd cry, both in embarrassment and need and cling to you.

"Please, help me. Please ... darling ..."

[hamiltonells]

ALWAYS ~ JUDE BELLINGHAM

[sort of based of this request! so thank you for request. please let me know what you think! always welcome to criticism, also let me know if you would like a series based or this little family! 🍓]

[SUMMARY: being soon to be parents is hard especially being so young as well, but Jude and y/n takes everything in their stride]

[WARNINGS: fluff, smut, morning sickness? not edited, swearing spelling mistakes? ]

You’re feet shuffled across the cold kitchen flooring as you soothed your bump with one hand and held a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the other, Your seven -month bump slightly peaking out of Jude’s shirt.

“Are you still okay for tomorrow, beautiful?” Jude’s voice reaches out over the FaceTime call, as you sitback down on the sofa and put the blanket over your bump.

With Jude being in Madrid, it was decided that you would have dinner at his parents' house in England. Due to your frequent travels between England and Madrid, you rarely have the opportunity to spend time with his family, especially with his mother being in the middle.

you placed the laptop on your lap during the ongoing FaceTime call with Jude, “Yeah all good jude, what time is your flight back” your voice grew tired with every sentence you speak.

“flight is about four in the morning will get back home at seven”Jude's voice making you grow even more tired and relaxed.

You knew it was difficult for Jude to balance being at the top of the football world and being a father at just twenty years of age, but he never complained about it once

It was unexpected for you to become pregnant, and it came as a surprise since you are only nineteen and Jude is twenty years old, but you both took it as your little blessing.

"Is my little one okay? It seems like she's wearing Mommy out" Jude's voice echoes through the FaceTime call, "we're okay, just tired and the usual sickness," your voice tiredly drawls out.

Since discovering you were pregnant, you have been experiencing severe nausea, even if it was morning or night It felt like a constant battle to keep any food down, and the smell of certain foods would instantly trigger your gag reflex.

"Plus, we miss daddy a lot," you said "fuck,don't do that voice, it turns me on" he added with a rough accent, you tutted “better hurry up home then”

"I'll be back home shortly, my Love," he said in his gentle Birmingham accent.

you was sound asleep when you heard the keys jingle in the door, the door open and Jude's footsteps slowly and carefully plodding up the stairs.

You hear Jude carefully open the door to the bedroom where you both share. As you shuffle yourself up to sit against the headboard, you reach for the switch to switch on the lamp, and you switch it on.

"What are you doing awake?" Jude's tired voice broke the silence of the room. You turned to see him rubbing his eyes, looking disheveled and exhausted.

"I missed you, heard you trying to be quiet" you admitted "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to disturb you" he replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

"You could never disturb me. I always want to hear your voice." you said softly, Moving to swing your legs out of bed holding your pregnant belly as you trying to ignore the persistent pressure on your bladder.

You sigh, knowing you have to get out of bed to relieve yourself.

“oi what you doing, let me help” Jude’s voice fills your ears, as he rushes to be by your side, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you, supporting your weight.

As he presses a soft kiss to your head, Your loving Jude gently helps you out of bed and guides you to the bathroom, making sure you don't trip over your own feet.

Once you’ve emptied your bladder, you get back into bed with a kiss on the cheek from Jude.

You snuggle into the bed sheets, Jude’s bare back now facing you as he’s rambling on about something with his toothbrush in his mouth, you don’t realise your eyes have started to close until you feel the bed dip beside you.

“Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you again” Jude whispered as he pulled the duvet over the pair of you, with your back facing Jude he slides his arms around you and on to your bump.

"I love you and we both missed you," you murmur softly in response to him, you feel him snuggle into your neck as he presses a soft kiss there.

“hey Jobe”you slightly laugh out his name as he opens the door only to be thrown into a headlock by his own brother, the pair of them shuffling into the living room as they play fight with each other.

You shut the front door and clean your feet on the doormat before untying your shoelaces and removing your shoes.

You enter the living room and see the two brothers sitting on the sofa with a sour expression and Denise giving them a look.

"Y/n, lovely seeing you again” Denise greets you warmly as she glances up and sees you standing in the doorway “you look amazing, not long left now” she hugs you as you smile and look down, “thank you Denise” you gushed as you sat in between Jude and Jobe.

“only a couple more months left, did Jude show you the scan pictures” you continued.

"Yeah, he did," she replied with a smile. "They're amazing, aren't they? I can't believe how much the baby has grown already."

"I know, it's incredible," you said, excitement evident in your voice. "I can't wait to meet him or her."

"As long as they don't look like Jude, they will be alright" Jobe joked “You’re literally like a mini Jude, Jobe” You laughed as you put your hand onto Jude’s thigh.

“It's nice to know that I can actually grow a beard at the moment" Jude mumbles to himself, but loud enough so that Jobe can hear, "you call that a beard" Jobe laughs as he’s dodging Jude's kick.

As Denise calls all of you over for dinner, Jude gets up first to assist you up, putting one hand on your back as he guides you over to the dinner table, he sits next to you his hand on your thigh.

Mark, Jude’s dad is sat across from you, making slight conversation as you start eating your food.

As you took another bite of your food, your stomach churned you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, you reach out to take a sip of your water to hopefully wash it down.

But as the night went on, the feeling only got worse, your hand went straight over your mouth mumbling your apologies as you rush through the house to get to the bathroom.

He trails behind you, apologizing to his family before heading to the bathroom to assist you, gently rubbing circles on your back as you lean over the toilet, feeling him gather your hair up in his hands.

“you okay baby?” His voice soothing you, you lean back into him breathless as the embarrassment washes over you.

”Jude, I am deeply embarrassed. Your mother and your entire family are under the impression that I became sick because of the meal she cooked.“You convey your concern by covering your face with your hands.

“she doesn’t think that, don’t be stupid they know your struggling with your pregnancy” Jude tries to calm your down by wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both sit in the bathroom floor.

“You okay y/n?” Denise’s worried voice makes you look up, as you see her standing in the doorway “she’s okay mum, bit tired though I think” Jude answers for you as he puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll set up Jude's room for you both, and maybe it'll be best if you stay overnight, I'll bring some lemonade up to help it helped my morning sickness with Jobe" Denise smiles at you .

In a pair of shorts and an old shirt, you lay on the bed of Jude's old bedroom, covered in the familiar smell of his old clothes.

Jude is right next to you, scrolling through his phone on his lap with his hand on your inner thigh as he softly squeezes it, as he as he speaks with Jobe who is laying across the end of the bed, who is also scrolling on his phone.

"How much longer do you have left?" Jobe asks quietly as you open your eyes to his voice. "Just a little over a month, why are you excited, Uncle Jobe?" you playfully respond.

he just hums to your question, focusing back on whatever was on his phone.

The next thing you notice is Jude placing his phone on his bedside table, and then shuffles over and settles his head on your chest while his hands go straight to shirt to lift it up, his hands go to your bump to soothe it.

In your hands, you are gentle touching the ends of his hair gently twisting it and reaching to his scruffy beard gently scratching it as he hums softly to.

When he presses a soft kiss against your bump, your unborn baby gives him a small kick as they responds to his kisses

“Did you feel that?” Jude’s face snaps around to face you as he realizes what has happened “yeah, going to be like there daddy” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“what? let me feel, move Jude” Jobe says as he rushes to your side and he places his own hand on your bump he pushes Jude's hands away as he presses his own against the bump.

“Jobe, fucking hell it's my kid.” Jude leans down for a for a kiss before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. You giggle as you see Jude's scrunched up face as he gets up and goes to the bathroom.

you’ve just gotten into bed when Jude come in with a glass of water and places it on your bedside table, “mum says goodnight” you hum to answer him while tugging him down to yourself.

"Careful," he laughs as he catches himself on his hands as he's above you, your hands go around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips.

His laughter fades into a soft sigh as he leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours once more before he puts his face into your neck and presses a few light kisses.

“You have a good day, baby?” He mumbles into the crook of your neck “the best thank j” you the nickname you call him slides off your tongue easily.

Jude hums“I love you so bloody much”

“I love you more” you giggle even more when be nips your neck.

He seals your lips together once more, using his knees to spread your thighs a bit further apart for him as he spreads them apart.

In the midst of your kiss, he lets out a breathy moan, courtesy of the fingers which are holding his face, interrupting your kiss with a breathy moan.

Jude utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging your hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against your side.

your lift your back up, and he settles it under your lower back and bum to prop you up. Fortunately for him, he has had extensive experience navigating the challenges of your pregnant belly.

he grips your shorts and carefully pulls them off, taking your knickers off and softly pressing a kiss to your thigh in the progress.

Settling between your thighs, Jude giggles when you wraps your legs around his hips and tugs him closer.

Jude’s body hovers over yours , love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through your folds, groaning at how slick you’ve become.

“Oh fuck” you whisper into Jude’s ear, biting back a grin as Jude grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling you.

Jude smiles as their chests are pressed together, enjoying the feeling of their stomachs touching while he guides himself into your slit.

Jude hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey you are for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have you this desperate for him and his touch.

“Need to be quiet, Jobe next door” he whispered as a moan ripped though your body.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He made a gentle backward slip, pulling the hips back gently as he slipped forward again, his breath stuttering as he dutifully slipped forward once again.

Guiding him, you softly release a moan, lowering one hand to the lower part of his back. With a whisper that tickles his ear, you affirm, "Jude, So so good." Tickled by the sensation, he squirms slightly and responds with a small laugh.

Jude soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between yourself, "made for being wrapped me huh?" And jude thinks nothing ever been truer.

Your arms were made to hold him, youe hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and your heart was made to completely consume his.

you reached your high before him, rolling your hips up to try and bring him to the edge, grinding down into your heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in your walls.

Jude knows you’re watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes “sorry baby, too tired for another one” he breathes into your neck.

As you nod and brush the sweaty spots from his forehead to soothe him and just like that, he is already able to feel lighter. He never has to sorry with you, you’ll always be here for him.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: "What are we?"

G/N. Relationship questions. Goo, Johan, Gun, Jake, DG, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

"What are we?" You blurt out. It gurgles up your throat and past your lips.

The question is unprompted. In truth it was something constantly running through your mind though you had never discussed it.

He stares, for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights before regaining his composure.

A sly smile slithers over Goo's face.

Even his glasses seem to somehow glint playfully in the light.

"What was that, sweetheart?" He asks, tilting his ear closer to you.

He knows that you know that he heard you perfectly yet he still likes to be difficult.

"Nothing," you mutter, rolling your eyes as dots of pink appear on your cheek.

His smile grows at your reaction. "Really, nothing?" You ignore him. "Didn't sound like nothing."

"..."

"Sound like you asked what we," he gestures at you and him, "are."

"Why are you being an asshole if you heard me then," you snap and he shrugs, unperturbed by your insult.

"Don't be like this," Goo purrs, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, other hand adjusting his glasses. "You're mine, and that would make me yours."

Ugh. You had considered shoving him off until he said that. He always knows what to say to keep you sweet and you're an absolute sucker for his unhinged charms.

"Happy, cupcake?"

Yeah, you're very happy. But you still refuse to look at him, even as a smile settles on your face.

.

.

"What?" Johan asks.

"What do you mean what?"

"I mean what-" he abruptly stops and clears his throat, face flushed. He looks anywhere but at you. A fascinating spot on the wall, a stain on the floor, somewhere over the horizon that he's contemplating sprinting off to.

"What were you going to say?"

Mustering up all his courage, he manages not to run off. Instead, he mumbles something under his breath that you can't catch.

"What?" You ask and god, if you say what one more time, you're going to fling yourself into incoming traffic.

Johan looks physically pained, as if he would rather go ten rounds with Gun Park than repeat what he said. But he can do this. He isn't a coward.

... That doesn't mean he needs to look at you while he says it though.

"You're Eden and Miro's favourite person. We talk about getting more puppies together. We do everything together." His ears glow bright red. "You met my mom. She talks about you all the time. She keeps giving me advice-"

"Ok, ok," you grin, taking his hand. Bless his sweet tortured soul, because he hasn't really officially said you're together but you can take a hint. "I guess it sounds like you're my boyfriend."

With a sigh of relief, Johan turns to you wearing a soft smile. "Yeah. I guess I am."

.

.

"You're not clear?" Gun asks with an eyebrow arched.

He looks pointedly at you wandering half naked in his home, his shirt you're wearing barely covering your ass.

"I just-" you bluster, yanking the offering garment lower and likely stretching it but fuck it. "We never said."

Gun gives you a look. One when he thinks you're being particularly insolent or ignorant.

"Don't I spend all my spare time with you?"

"Yes but-"

"Don't I give you complete access to every part of me?"

"Yes-"

"Didn't I introduce you to Charles?"

"And Goo." You add with a grin as Gun's jaw tightens. The latter was unplanned and unwanted. Goo had practically stalked him to his date and then played a very chatty third wheel.

He ignores your comment, just like he tends to ignore most things to do with Goo. "I thought it was obvious I can't see a future without you."

"Oh." You feel the grin tugging at your lips.

"Now are you clear?" Gun asks, eyes warm and lips lifted too as you nod.

.

.

"We?" Jake gives you a full toothy grin.

"Us."

"Our relationship?"

"Yes," you press, giving him a fond shove.

"Well," he starts ticking off his fingers, "Somehow I think Jerry is more loyal to you than me. Brad thinks you're more fun. Jason prefers you as the boss. Lua just prefers you fullstop. And I'm sure Lineman is even more in love you with you than I am-"

Jake slams his mouth shut. His eyes widen as he realises what he just confessed.

He was supposed to joke around how you've usurped him as the actual boss of Big Deal and he's now your lowly peon doing your bidding.

Not that he’s in-

It should be obvious to anyone with eyes that you're together. That Jake is your boyfriend. It's nice, he guesses, to officially confirm that and put that little worried wrinkle between your brows to rest.

But it is far far too early for him to throw the 'L' word around. He's worried about scaring you off and burdening you with more than you can bear-

"Hmm," you cut in on his spiralling thoughts, tapping your finger on your chin thoughtfully "I dunno. I think Lineman is even more in love with my boyfriend than I am."

Your words sink in. Jake turns to you, grin on his face once more and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like we both have competition."

.

.

"About that," DG starts, and your heart sinks.

That surely isn't a good sign, right?

"What do you think?" He slides over a piece of paper to you and you find a press release printed.

Your eyes clock the picture of you two, looking very cosy and coupley - his arm around you and your head on his shoulder. It's a very flattering picture of him, although when is this guy not photogenic? It's not a bad one of you either.

Beneath it sits a few lines. You scan over the words. 'Relationship', 'Dating', 'Respectful', 'Privacy' stand out.

You glance up to find him staring intently back at you. Leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers steepled together.

It's a tell. You know him well enough by now to see that his nerves are flaring beneath the cool mask.

This is a big step for him, but an even bigger ask for you. To subject yourself to the limelight and his fans and accept who he is, the life he lives.

There was never any doubt.

"It's great." You grin, and he gazes at you, half lidded and with a small smile. 

.

.

"Whatever you want us to be," Samuel says with a smirk, and you internally frown at him, batting the ball so easily back into your court.

You suppose you only have yourself to blame.

You should know by now he would be avoidant when there's a lot to lose.  That overplaying his hand means showing you too much of his vulnerability.

Although you had really hoped by now it was obvious how you felt about him

"But-" he continues, curling himself around your back and wrapping his arms around you, "I think I've settled into the position of boyfriend well."

His lips, time and time again, is drawn to the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Don't you agree?" He asks before nipping at your skin.

You breath hitches and you stammer your agreement.

.

.

"I've been wanting to ask you this at a better time," Ryuhei scratches awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Ask me what?”

He mumbles to himself in his native tongue, as if praying for courage and trying to steel himself.

"Are you ok?" You ask, watching him fumble inside his long coat.

"Never better!" He says though he's now grown paler than you have ever seen and there's a sheen of sweat across his brow.

He lunges forward, landing on one knee with a painful thud as you take a step back.

Wincing, he snaps open a ring box with the biggest diamond you have ever seen.

"Oh my god, our first date was only two months ago!" You say at the same time as he asks-

"Will you marry me?"

[petew21-blog]

Love thy neighbor

Jerry:"Oh look he posted again. And look at the quote '

Instagram - Clark_779:'Luke 6:31: Do to others as you would have them do to you. We all have to remember to be kind to each other'

Harvey:"I can't stand him anymore. Such a fucking hypocrite. Pretending to be a good christian and at the same time making our lives at school a living hell."

Jerry:"Yeah, you're right. But he won't change. He'll be the same asshole as he is now"

Harvey:"Maybe not"

Jerry:"Yeah right. You're gonna give him a lesson on ethics and he's gonna be kind. How about Red Riding Hood. That's a good story too. Maybe you should tell me that one"

Harvey:"If you'd let me talk I would explain it to you. I have been visiting this bookstore that seels antique stuff"

Jerry:"Aaaaand you found a love option that's gonna make him fall in love with you. Great"

Harvey:"You know I'm not gay and no. Something better. I got these two rings to swap our bodies"

Jerry:"Sure. And you know they work?"

Harvey:"We could try it out right now"

Jerry:"What if we don't change back?"

Harvey:"The man said that it should be fully reversible as long as both of them are wearing the ring"

Jerry:"Ok, fine. It's not like I believe your. But why not"

The took the rings and put them on their fingers. But nothing happened

Jerry:"Look, man. I know you wanted to believe it, but you gotta learn that there are scammers in the world and they...."

"...just want to rob you." Jerry finished the sentence but now from Harvey's body

Jerry:"What?!?"

Harvey:"Told you:

Jerry:"Dude, thus changes everything. We could ne the most popular people in the entire school. No, we can be anybody"

Harvey:"Calm down. We got a lot of time ahead of us. But for now I think we should stick with low profile dudes like Clark"

Jerry:"Ok, let's see if we can swap back"

The exchanged the rings again and after a moment were looking back at the other person. Harvey noticed that his dick was now hard in his briefs, but decided not to comment on in so that he wouldn't leave embarassed and his plan would go to shit

Jerry:"Ok. So how do you wanna do it?"

Harvey:"I got a plan"

Jerry:"I don't want to get beat up"

Harvey:"Someone has to sacrifice. Now go and provoke him. I'll intervene as soon as he would start beating you"

Clark was talking with his bros near the lockers. Jerry didn't have to say a thing and Clark noticed his presence:"Hey, fag. Got my lunch money?"

Jerry sped up and went on as if he didn't say anything. Clark ran out to get him as his bros stood behind. He shoved Jerry against a locker, making him collapse on the ground. That was a big hit. Jerry felt his back aching

Clark:"I was talking to you, nerd. Give ne your money"

Jerry:"I don't have any money today"

Harvey came closer and offered him the ring. "You can sell this for a better price than just lunch". Clark grabbed Harvey's sweatshirt and lifted him up against the locker. "Who said you can talk to me?"

Harvey stayed calm:"Please, just take it and let us be". Clark took the ring and looked at it. It seemed manly. Not like one for woman. He liked it. "Fine. Only this time" he let go of Harvey.

Harvey was next to Jerry now. Jerry was aching. While Harvey looked surprisingly confident. Jerry:"So? What now? What if he sells it or throws it away." Harvey:"Now we wait"

They were sitting at the front of the class along with the rest of the seniors. Clark was with his bros at the back. Harvey was trying to observe him, but everytime he did some of his bros noticed.

Jerry:"He's playing with the ring" And he was. History class probably borec him so much that he had to take a look at it.

Harvey turned around and noticed as another jock took it from him. "Oh no" he noticed as he was about to slip it on his finger and immediately took off his. Jock looked how the ring fit. He said to Clark:"Can I keep it?". "NO, it's mine. Echoed silently through the class"

The teacher didn't care that they were shouting. He was in support of our school jock and was in their favour so he let a lot of things pass

Clark took the ring back from the other guy and put it on his finger. Jerry said:"Now Harvey!" Harvey slipped on the ring as well and waited

Few seconds later. Jerry looked at Harvey's face that changed expression. He even spoke out loud:"What're you looking at, fag?" Jerry was shocked. This was real. He looked back to see Clark smiling back at him. "Holy shit" Jerry said out loud

The teacher scolded him Jerry. Mister Barren. There will be no such talk in my class. Go visit the prinicipal right now and take your things. Jerry had a hard time trying not to smile

Clark was so dull that he still didn't notice yet. Jerry went to the principal where he got his detention. Message arrived to his phone from unkwon number:"Clark is really passed. He screamed out at the class. He made me look like a crazy person. Come to my NEW car"

Jerry was nervous. He was always scared to even get close to Clark's car and now he was about to go in. He opened the door and sat down. There He was. Clark, but not really Clark

"Sup, fag" Harvey said. They both laughed

Jerry:"Holy shit dude, this is crazy. I can't believe it"

Harvey:"No, this is crazy. Check these out" he said as he flexed Clark's arm right into Jerry's face

Jerry:"Holy shit. Dude? Can I...?

Harvey:"Sure thing. Go ahead"

Jerry squeezed Clark's biceps and let his fingers go along the lines of his muscles. "This is incredible"

Harvey:"So what now. Wanna get your new body?"

Jerry:"I think we should wait until the drama about your body is done. Your body looks crazy right now and if there were the two of us, It might be more suspicious. I say we go to your new place. We should check it out"

Harvey:"Right on, mister. Hold your glasses"

Harvey wasn't a really good driver and it showed. The ride was... a bit dangerous

They entered the house. It was completely empty

Now the boys inspected the modern kitchen with a fridge full of great food.

Jerry:"Dude, this is amazing. It must be crazy good to be this rich"

Harvey:"You know what's also amazing? Check it" he lifted up his shirt and swestshirt, pulling his jeans down a bit

Jerry:"Wow. Dude. Those are really hot. Can I touch them?"

Harvey:"Why are you even asking at this point? Haha"

Jerry went closer to give it a feel. He was so close to his tormentor/friends face now. He expected a hit from his body or that his body would betray him and he would start kissing him instead. "Ehm... wanna maybe go upstairs to see his room?"

Harvey:"Sure. I mean, we'll be spending a lot of time there. Playing video games and so on. So we should atleast check it out"

After an hour of playing Harvey let go of the controler. Jerry:"Anything wrong Harvey?"

Harvey:"I'm Clark now. And I'm sice of not appreciating this body" he started undressing

Jerry couldn't look away. He was so hard right now. " Harv... Clark? Maybe you should wait before I leave?"

Harvey:"Don't pretend like you don't wanna see these guns and the rest. I know you do"

Jerry:"Oh... you do?"

Harvey:"Sure. I know you're gay. I could even feel my dick hard when we swapped before. Can't really hide that"

"Now look at this beautiful big dick" Harvey said as he held it over his boxer briefs. "No wonder he keep fucking everyone at the entire school. If I had this body and dick I would too. Oh wait... now I do. Haha"

"Let's take a proper look at it. Oh wow. It's so thick. Wanna check it out?" Harvey said with a seductive look at Jerry

Harvey didn't wait and got over Jerry. Sliding down his boxer briefs.

"Come on. Touch it. I know you want to"

Jerry hesitated, but Harvey put his dick into his face. Jerry took the dick into his hand. It really was big. "Oh wow, Harvey"

Harvey:"I told you, I'm Clark now. And you should suck it" he said and pushed his dick towards Jerry's mouth

He smiled:"I knew you'd like it you little, fag"

Jerry couldn't help it, but this talk. Pretending to be Clark and sucking him off was so amazing. He wanted this moment to last forever. Or atleast to be repeated several times

Jerry swallowed all of the cum. Harvey was now in the bathroom cleaning himself off and taking photos

Jerry at Harvey in the bathroom:"I think we should talk about it, Harv... Clark."

Harvey:"Talk about what? That you just sucked my dick?"

Jerry:"Yeah. You said you are straight and now you let me do this. Did you do it just to cheer me up or because of the attention"

Harvey was still around the corner in the bathroom:"Kinda both. But do you really think that I would be straight in a body like this. Especially when his body looks so good in this?"

He entered in a maid's dress. Showing off and flexing his muscles right at Jerry

Harvey:"I couldn't let this body be straight. I would just limit my options.

Jerry pushed down his hard on

Harvey;"And if you'd want we can pick you a nice girl's bldy and be a cute couple fucking around at home and at school. But I think you'd rather let me fuck another hot stud and get revenge on these hypocrites. Am i right?"

Jerry nodded in approval

Harvey:"Good. Then let's pick you a hot body. I can't wait to fuck you"

Anonymous request in inbox

Can you do a classic swap story between a nerd and a straight jock? I always find those to be super hot

[gay-dorito-dust]

i didn't realise i could just ask here than from messages im so sorry 💀 but im hungry so can you please write some more damian scenarios 😕 (angst/fluff PLEASE 🙏) im sorry if I'm bothering you but i can't get enough of your writing 😔 hope you're taking care of yourself tho!! :)))

This’ll probably seem really short but it’s like almost 10pm and I’m running on fumes and bad mental health days lately 😂

‘What’re you doing my treasure.’ Damian said as he walked into his room, only to find you had let Ace and Titus on the bed and he had to blink twice to make sure his mind wasn’t making up them wearing pyjamas on top of that.

‘Nothing.’ You said nonchalantly as you brought Titus in your arms, cuddling him while he remained looking at his owner.

‘I thought I said none of our pets should be on the bed?’ Damian then said as he gestured to the two dogs that you had let on the bed without his permission as though the situation you both faced wasn’t obvious.

‘I was feeling lonely when you were out on patrol.’ You replied, pouting. ‘That and I was bored and out the dogs in pyjamas to feel included with me being in pyjamas.’ You added as you smiled widely at him. Damian sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised, this was bound to happen sooner or later since you still had a couple more weeks to heal your leg before being cleared for vigilante work again.

So naturally you are going to rope in Titus and Ace one way or another in your shenanigans much like you did with Jerry and Goliath when you had hurt your arm, Damian almost lost his mind trying to find you only to find you fast sleep stop of Goliath, with Jerry acting on guard in front of you both. It was certainly a humorous sight had he not been on high alert when he couldn’t find you in bed upon his return from a mission with Bruce.

‘You could’ve waited until I came back my beloved, I don’t want you hurting your self further just trying to entertain yourself.’ Damian lightly scolded you as he walked over to your side of the bed, kissing you on the forehead before greeting -and thanking- ace and Titus with head pats and ear scratches, as an almost missable smile graced his face upon seeing the two dogs poetically melt into his scratches.

This was the sight he loved most when coming home and he always wanted to come home to this as many times as he could in the nearby distant future.

‘I’ll be fine Dami,’ you said softly as you reached out to hold his cheek in your hand, ‘I’m not doing anything that’ll cause me any discomfort or more pain then I’m already in and that I’ve been in really good company.’ You gesture towards ace and Titus who would press themselves against either of your sides, acting as living crutches for you when you tried to move about the room and down the halls, they’d even look up at you as though to silently ask if you were okay and if you needed to sit down soon.

You knew Damian was behind this and couldn’t help but bring him into a tender to his forehead. ‘Thank you.’ You whispered.

‘For what my treasure?’ He asks softly as he manages to settle himself on the edge of your shared bed.

‘For having ace and Titus look out of me when you’re gone, sometimes I forget how well you know me to know that I’d get restless when healing.’ You said as you patted both dogs on their sides in appreciation as they both decided that they had gotten comfortable enough to start falling asleep. Neither you nor Damian had the heart to tell them to get off, and silently decided that one night every so often could Ace and Titus could share the bed with you and Damian.

‘Like you said I know you, better then most, and I’d like it more if you didn’t go and get yourself hurt from trying to do something beyond your current capability.’ Damian admitted softly as he began to get into more comfortable sleepwear to join you, Titus and ace in bed by climbing into your side of the bed and holding you again his chest upon seeing as how Titus and ace took up his side of the bed.

‘How sweet of you my dear.’ You said cheekily as you kissed his hand that rested on your side before yawning.

‘Sleep my love,’ Damian said softly as he watched you rest your weary and heavy head upon his chest, ‘sleep sweetly.’ He adds just as you succumb to long awaited sleep as he kissed your forehead, only to follow after you not long after being certain that you’d wouldn’t be bothered anymore before joining you in the dream realm either Titus and Ace.

[rockrosethistle]

I've been trying to figure out Jon Matteson Character Family Tree theory

after all of my limited research, here's what I've come up with:

Wallace is using his military powers to keep Lumberaxe hidden.

Richie is unhelpful to this cause and once told Pete "did you know my second cousin is the hatchetfield axe man."

'Uncle Paul' drives Gary's kids to school. One day they got in the car and there was a whole seven year old child back there also calling him 'Uncle Paul.'

Also Paul's been offering the kids money in exchange for dirt on Ted.

Gary knows one of his kids likes anime and the other likes superheroes but he can't really tell the difference. Paul has seen one episode of sailor moon and thinks he knows everything ("who do you kin? Who do you ship? You know who I kin? ... you.")

Gary also went out of his way to join the Wiggly cult because he knew it would piss off Jerry.

Daniel is surprisingly close with his cousin Wallace. It turns out having psychic abilities can be really useful to the Secretary of Defence.

Also Daniels been buying a lot of stuff recently with money that came from...the 'stock market.' He got himself some new roller blades and got Richie some anime pillows. Gary pretends not to notice but already is writing up a case for Daniel incase he gets in trouble.

Aunt Emma has secretly been buying Richie blue hair dye for like a year. Gary has no idea where it's all coming from, but he keeps finding the empty boxes and Richie's been wearing a lot of hats recently.

(Which really confuses him because he never told Richie he couldn't dye his hair.)

[jojaydoodles]

Posted ages ago on my ko-fi, but what the hell. I don't have time to draw new art TT_TT

It's difficult to draw someone who looks like everyone else and anyone at the same time. I imagine if beige was a person, they would have to look like Moist von Lipwig. I was going for the sort of coloring that would make it difficult to recall / describe the exact color of hair, eyes and skin. Which is, mostly, just brown-ish with a vague hint of Jerry from HR.

Just another face in the crowd. Wearing the very black, golem-made suit.

You'll remember the words, the golden hat and the swagger - but not the person.

The Man You Can Trust ™ and his Honest Handshake.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

What's Almost Familiar

Summary: “It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink. “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in. It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home. It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. He has to keep the world safe from Bill. I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself. He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar. Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this. But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says. “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

Author's Note: No of course I didn't read the Book of Bill lately like everyone else what are you talking about

I also blame this post with all the amazing inspiring art btw

...

In retrospect, Ford probably shouldn’t have run when the fashion police from the last dimension had started chasing him.  But while he doesn’t know anything about how to look fashionable, he does know that based on the suits and dresses of that dimension, he wouldn’t stand a chance in court.  He hadn’t even known someone could wear that much glitter.

He hadn’t even meant to go to the stupid dimension in the first place.  He’d been aiming for the one over, but his dimension-hopping gun had been buggy for weeks now, and the parts still aren’t ready to fix it.  The dimension he was aiming for was supposed to give him an opportunity for a short rest, somewhere he could stay just long enough until the jerry-rigged screen on his gun would go off and tell him the parts are ready.

But surprise surprise, the malfunctioning gun still has a tendency to malfunction, and he’d wound up in a dimension that took his proclivity for comfort personally.

He hadn’t really had a dimension in mind when he fired up the gun again, just somewhere he could hide for a bit, but unfortunately the fashion police followed him right through the portal, meaning Ford is still running, with them hot on his heels and shouting about the tears in his coat.

Okay, okay, he can do this.  He’s been on the run enough times to figure this out.  He needs to lose them, find a place to hide, and get his dimension gun working long enough to find a place they can’t follow him.

Ford looks ahead and sees a corner to his left, and dives around it.  What meets him is a straightway of crumbling abandoned buildings.  Well, he’s hidden in worse places.  But as he starts running down the street, aiming for another alleyway to duck down in a hope of losing the officers behind him, someone sprints out of an alley on his other side, and runs headfirst into him, knocking them both to the ground.

“Hey, watch where you’re going you knucklehead!” Ford snaps, but when he turns to glare at the person as he tries to pull himself to his feet, he’s met with… himself?

No, that’s impossible.  If this was an alternate version of himself, both of them and the entire dimension would now be starting to fade from existence.  But it sure looks like him, which only leaves the option of—

Ford’s eyes widen.  “Stanley?”

Stanley stares back at him, looking equally as stunned as Ford feels, but before either of them can say anything, from behind Stan comes “You won’t get away with it this time!” and Stan whirls back to look towards it.

“Uh, we should probably get out of here,” he says.  He stands and pulls Ford to his feet, and starts pushing them both back the way Ford came.

“Uh, no,” Ford says, pushing back.  “Bad idea.”

Before Stan can ask why, the fashion police run around the corner, and Stan looks at them.  His expression turns baffled, which is fair, Ford hasn’t encountered cops who wear that much perfume before tonight either.

“Get back here, you filthy criminal!” one of them yells.  “The detective themed party was last week!”

“O-kay, we’re running now,” Stan says.  He grabs Ford’s hand and pulls them both down the street, away from both sets of cops.

“Buy me some time,” Ford says, yanking out his dimension gun.  “If I can get this damn thing to work I can get us out of here!”

Stan turns over his shoulder, and there’s the sound of a gun of some kind going off, which is strange, because he hadn’t thought Stan had one.  But judging by the pained cry and the “No, not blood on my suit!”, Stan definitely hit the fashion police with something.  Another cry comes from behind them, and Ford manages to get the gun settled on one dimension.

He hits the button on his gun, and a portal opens in front of them both.  He grabs Stanley’s arm and pulls them both through it, then points the gun over his shoulder and zaps the portal closed.

They’re in a dimension that’s clearly experienced an apocalypse recently, just a flat, gray, dead expanse of land.  And while whatever happened is bound to be depressing if they take the time to figure it out, for now the both of them just use it as an excuse to stop and catch their breath.  Ford leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, and lets out a large sigh of relief.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Stanley laughs.  “Well, that’s the last time I ever bring that much fake money into a casino,” he says.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ford mutters.

Then realization strikes him, and he stands back up.  “Wait, Stanley,” he says.  “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Stan asks incredulously.  “You weren’t supposed to jump in after me, Poindexter.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“After you?” Ford asks, baffled.  “You mean you…” he pauses as the obvious option occurs to him.  It seems to occur to Stan at the same time.

“We’re… not from the same place, are we?” Stan asks, his face falling ever so slightly, despite the way he was just yelling at Ford about coming in after him.

“It seems not,” Ford says, giving a sympathetic smile.  “But hey, thanks for the save back there.  How did you do that, anyway?”

Stan shrugs, and hoists up his right arm.  Now that they’re not running from the cops, it’s easier to see that the arm looks suspiciously metal, which is confirmed a second later, when Stan points it firmly away from both of them and turns all of the fingers into what look like miniature guns.

For a second, all Ford can do is stare at it.

“Lost the real one a decade and a half ago,” Stan says.  “Figured if I was gonna get an upgrade it might as be an upgrade, y’know?”

Ford swallows, still looking at his arm.  “Six fingers?” he asks quietly.

Stan’s eyes widen slightly and he immediately hides the arm behind his back.  “Yeah well uh, you know, the guy who made it doesn’t get too many humans and wasn’t super sure what he was doing.  Plus uh, more bullets.”

Ford raises an eyebrow.  “Why not get seven fingers, then?”

Stan sighs, and drops his arm back to his side, then rubs the back of his neck with his other one.  “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Never,” Ford says, smiling a little despite himself.  And despite the fact that he really can’t afford to waste time finding parts for his quantum destabilizer, he can’t help the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says.  “I know a good human bar a couple dimensions over.  I can probably get this thing working long enough to get us there,” he says, lifting up his dimension gun.  “Do you want to get a drink?”

Stan grins.

…

This version of Stan who got sucked into the portal is everything Ford would have thought to expect from a version of Stan who got sucked into the portal.  He’s loud and brash and boastful, with plenty of tricks he can pull off with his prosthetic arm and plenty of stories about space heists he’s pulled off.  Ford is fairly certain they’re not all true, but he wants to hear every one anyway.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed Stanley.  His feelings about his actual brother from his own dimension are so tangled up with betrayal and anger and a million other things that it’s hard to even know what he’d do if he saw him.  But in talking to a version of Stanley that carries none of the emotional baggage, Ford almost feels like he’s eighteen again, before everything went so horribly wrong between them.

“Listen, I’m telling you, that one was the law’s fault,” Stan says, setting his mug of beer down.  “Laws shouldn’t be stupid if they don’t want to be broken.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that works,” Ford says, though the large smile on his face is definitely giving away how little he’s bothered by it.

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one running from the cops tonight,” Stan points out with a bright grin.  “Guess I’m not the only criminal in the family anymore.”

“Laws broken in the name of science and survival don’t count,” Ford says, picking up his own beer and taking a drink.

“Great, so that means I can write off everything I did in the ten years after dad kicked me out, good to know,” Stan asks, sounding amused.

Ford startles a little, surprised at the casual way that Stan says that.  He doesn’t often think about what life was like for Stan during those ten years, but if he’s talking about writing off broken laws, Ford really doubts he means it in the name of science.

Either way, Stan seems totally content to move on, instead grinning back at Ford.  “And what was tonight, survival or science?” he asks.

Ford wrinkles his nose.  “Fashion.”

Stan laughs, loud and delighted in the way Ford hasn’t heard in decades.

“I’m sorry, didn’t you say something about bringing fake money into a casino?” Ford says, shoving Stan in the shoulder rather than acknowledging the ache in his chest.

“Yeah, but you expect that of me.  Next time you want to break the law, put some actual malice behind it.  It’s way more fun.”

Ford just rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his beer.  “Please, I bet I could outshine you with multiverse law-breaking stories.”

“I’m sorry, have you been listening to all my space heists?”

“And how many run-ins have you had with monsters and dream demons?  Have you ever even met Bill Cipher?”

“Bill Cipher?  What is he, like a secret code nerd you lost a boxing match to?”

“Oh, now I know that wasn’t a dig at my boxing skills.”

“Well, if the glove fits.”

“I’ve been traveling the multiverse and fighting monsters for almost thirty years, my boxing skills are a little better than they were in high school.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ford glares over at Stan.  “Are you trying to get me to start a brawl in the middle of a bar?”

Stan just takes another drink of his beer, though Ford can see the smile behind it.  He can’t help but smile back a little as he shakes his head and takes a drink from his own mug.

Stan sets his drink down after another second, and turns to face Ford again.  And while Ford is expecting another joke or the start to a story to try and one-up all of Ford’s options, instead Stan surprises him.

“So uh, your portal incident,” he says.  Ford turns and faces him.  He wasn’t expecting Stan to go there.  But then Stan says, “where’d you end up after going through?  Because like, if we didn’t run into each other until now, but everything else seems mostly the same, does that mean we started in different places?”

Ford gives an “ah” of understanding.

“Well, I ended up in the nightmare realm with Bill,” Ford says.  “Had to run for my life pretty fast, but I made it out.  I mean, obviously.  Where were you?”

“A giant empty void of some kind,” Stan says.  He rubs the back of his neck and gives a sour smile.  “Thought Ford was mocking me.”

Ford narrows his eyes in confusion.  “Huh?”

“Oh, my Ford, obviously,” Stan says with a wave of his hand, as if that clears it up.  “Not you.”

“No, I— what do you mean, you thought he was mocking you?”

“Well, after he shoved me in,” Stan says, and something about the way he says it makes Ford’s chest go cold.

“But… why would that mean he was mocking you?” he asks, hoping he’s misunderstanding.  “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

Stan turns and gives him a confused look.  “What?  No.  What are you talking about?”

“Well, I wouldn’t— you’re not saying he shoved you in on purpose, are you?”

“Hey,” Stan holds up his hands.  “Different worlds, different Fords.  It doesn’t say anything about you.”

Ford tries not to let his obvious discomfort show.  “I suppose,” he says.  But still, he can’t imagine any scenario where he’d shove Stanley into the portal on purpose.  He might have been angry at Stan, but he never wanted him in danger.  And shoving him through the portal would have guaranteed that.  He shut it down because it was dangerous, and he didn’t want anything like what happened to Fiddleford to happen to anyone else.

“You’re really bothered by that, huh,” Stan says after a second, because he’s far too similar to the brother Ford knows, which means he can read him like an open book.

“I just don’t understand,” Ford admits, shaking his head.  “I mean, you are so similar to how I remember my version of Stanley.  Why would I be so different?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was actin’ different too,” Stan says.  “My brother, I mean.  Real weird.”

Ford looks curiously back at Stan.  “Weird how?”

“Like, real giggly and manic.  At one point I kicked him hard into the wall and he just started laughing.  He said something about how hilarious it was.  Honestly, I think he was on something.”

Ford can’t breathe.  His mind is starting to paint him a horrifying picture.

“He— Stanley,” he says.  “Did he fall unconscious at any point that you were down there?”

Stan looks at him in confusion.  “How’d you know that?”

Ford runs a hand through his hair.  “That— god.  Stanley, that wasn’t your brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That— remember when I mentioned Bill Cipher?”

“The secret code nerd?” Stan asks, smirking.

“He’s not a secret code nerd, he’s a demon,” Ford says, turning to face Stan directly, trying to get across the importance of what he’s saying, because if Stanley meant it when he said he never met Bill, that means he’s spent the whole time here thinking his brother pushed him through the portal on purpose, and Ford can’t let that go on.

“Stanley, he’s a demon that I met, and that your brother must have met too.  I suppose I can’t say that things went exactly the same, but from what you said…” he takes a breath and folds his hands together.  He doesn’t make a habit of telling people his history with Bill, but this is important.

“I met him when I was young and idealistic and stupid,” he says plainly.  “And before I realized how malicious and dangerous he was, I made a deal with him, and let him possess me whenever he wanted.  He can’t anymore,” Ford knocks on the metal plate in his head.  “But back then, he could anytime that I fell asleep.  And that whole thing, about pain being hilarious?  He said that all the time.  He probably thought that you were too dangerous to him, or that you’d get in the way, so when your brother fell unconscious, he… well.  I can’t imagine why he’d lead with the fact that it wasn’t your brother in control anymore.”

Stan looks at him for a long moment after he finishes, and to Ford’s surprise, he can’t read his face.  Finally, Stan just says, “Huh.”  He turns and takes a drink of his beer.

Ford blinks at him.  “Huh?” he repeats.

Stan looks back at him.  “Do you want me to say something else?”

“Something— do you believe me?” Ford asks, a little incredulous.

“I mean, I’ve seen enough crazy shit out here that it can’t exactly be off the table,” Stan says.  “You also have no reason to lie to me, so… yeah, sure.”  He shrugs.

Ford looks at him for another minute.  “I’ll admit, I was expecting a bigger reaction,” he says.

“I mean, it doesn’t change that much,” Stan says.  “I’m still here, aren’t I?  Come on, we both know how smart you are.  If my brother wanted me back he’s had thirty years to do something about it.  Even if he wasn’t responsible for the first part, it’s on him now.  It’s fine.  I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

Oh.  Ford gets it now.  Stan wants something he can’t have.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink.  “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in.  It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home.  It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few.  He has to keep the world safe from Bill.  I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself.  He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar.  Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this.  But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says.  “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

“I— what?  I’ve learned plenty,” Ford says, feeling a little offended.  “I’ve learned so much about the multiverse, and about Bill, and—”

“About yourself, knucklehead,” Stan says, smirking at him.  “Have you just been passing through from one place to another for thirty years?”

“I— there aren’t a ton of other options,” Ford says.  “I can’t stay in a parallel Earth, I could run into a version of myself.  There’s too many dimensions that can’t sustain a life form like me, and I still have Bill to worry about.  It’s not like I can just leave him to do whatever he wants.”

“Sure you can,” Stan says.  “Someone else will take care of him.”

“Someone else will what?  Stanley—”

“It’s not all on you, Ford,” Stan says, looking back at him.  “If there’s a version of me here, there have to be other versions of you.  Let one of them take that risk.”

“I can’t just count on that!  What if that’s what we all think?”

Stan snorts, like that’s somehow funny.

“Stanley—”

“And then what?” Stan cuts him off, turning and raising an eyebrow at him.  “After you defeat Bill.  What do you do then?”

“I— there’s bound to be something else that—”

“What stuff do you do because you want to, Ford?  What out here makes you happy?”

“Well— discovering new dimensions and how they work,” Ford says.  “Their laws of physics, their food and cultures, their—”

“You got any friends?”

“What does that matter?”

“How much of the stuff you learned was pure observation?  Did you go up and talk to anyone, ask them questions about how things work?”

“Right, because everyone in every dimension speaks English.”

Stan raises an eyebrow.  “You’re telling me you’ve been here almost thirty years and you’ve never gotten your hands on a dimensional translator?”

“I— I have, but that’s not—”

“Ford, listen.  We have to live here, right?  I’m never going home, and it doesn’t sound like you think you are either.”

“I’m not,” Ford says.  “What’s your point?”

“So this is all we got,” Stan says.  “You’re never going home, so you have to do something else.”

“Obviously, what are you getting at?”

Stan grins at him.  “You want to come check out my place?”

Ford stares at him.  “You have a house?”

“Of sorts.”  Stan pulls out a small box that looks vaguely like a treasure chest.  “I’ve got a dimensional lock on her.”

“I…” Ford says, and trails off, not quite sure what to say.

Stan smiles at him, and then waves over at the bartender.  “Thanks for the drinks!” he calls.  He slams a couple bills down on the counter and turns back to Ford.

“Are those bills real?”

“Shh.  Let’s go.”  Stan hits a button on his dimensional lock, and the world bends and twists around them, pulling them back to whatever Stan’s put the other lock on.  When they stop, Ford looks around, and—

“Why am I not surprised?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “Welcome to the Stan-O-War II.”

They’re standing on a houseboat in what looks like a fairly typical human ocean, if you ignore the fact that a stretch of it rises into the air and twists upside down into the sky not too far up ahead.

They’re sailing right towards the lift into the air, but Stan seems completely unphased by this.  He walks up a set of stairs to a steering wheel, and pulls a lever on the side.  The entire boat starts glowing gold, and as they reach the shift in gravity, the boat turns into it with no issue, and Ford doesn’t feel his own center of gravity shift at all.

“You would not believe how much I had to steal to get that part working,” Stan says.

“Stanley—”

“Alright, I lied.  I worked odd jobs until I could afford it.  Easier that way.  There’s so many police checks on these kinds of dohickeys, it’s ridiculous.”

The boat sails with the curve until they’re upside down, and Ford can look around him to see stars and planets around them, though not any that he recognizes.

“Remarkable,” he breathes, because he can’t help but be a little blown away by it.

Stanley walks back down the steps and over to stand next to Ford, smiling at the stars around them too.

“I picked this dimension as a home base,” Stan says.  “I think you can guess why.”

Ford just nods.

Stan walks forward and leans over the side of the boat to look down at the water.  After a second, Ford joins him.  From the— sea? sky?— below, fish leap up and eat the stars out of the air.  As soon as they land back in the water, one of the stars still in the air splits in half, and the number of stars in the sky remains unchanged.

“Some of the planets,” Stan says, pointing at one with his finger and following it as the bot sails past it.  “Can support life.  So when the fish eat the stars, the stars split so nothing on the planet dies.  The brief moments of darkness are the planet’s solar eclipses.”

“Planet-wide solar eclipses?” Ford asks, amazed.  “Is the star gone for too short of a time to make a difference in the temperature?”

“Nah.  The folks on the planet just evolved to get used to it.”

“How do you know?” Ford asks, looking back at him.

“I shrunk myself down and went to ask ‘em.  Had to time it right, though.  I’m sure not evolved to survive an eldritch fish eating the sun.”

“Stanley, that’s… incredibly dangerous,” Ford says.  But for a moment, he can’t help but feel impossibly jealous.

“Worth it though.  I’m apparently well known to everyone on pretty much every planet.  They kind of view me as a god.  Hell of an ego boost that was.”

“Oh lord,” Ford mutters.  “I don’t want to think about that.”

Stan laughs.  He turns and leans back against the side of the boat, then gazes up at the sea, back on the… well, Earth, of sorts, now above them.

“When I said I made my peace with it,” Stan says, without looking at Ford, “I meant it.  I know my brother.  I know how his head works.  I know he’s probably doin’ alright without me, and I’m okay with that.  Way I see it, my two options were either let everything fester and grow into an angry, bitter old man, or let it go.”  Stan spreads his hands.  “I like where the second option has let me end up.”

Ford looks at Stan, and finds he doesn’t know what to say.  It’s an unusual feeling.  He’s not sure he likes it.

It looks like they’ll be sailing along the sky for a while, judging by what’s ahead of them, so Ford leans back next to Stan and looks at the sky below them and the sea above them.

“But…” Ford says finally, because he has to say something.  “What’s your goal, here?  What are you trying to do?”

Stan turns to him, raises an eyebrow.  “Goal?”

“What do you want to do, with your life?” Ford asks.  “It— it can’t just be— this.”

Stan smiles, just a little.  “And why not?”

“Well— because…” Ford trails off, lost.

Neither of them say much for a while.

Finally, Ford’s dimension gun beeps at him.  He glances down at the screen and lets out a sigh of relief.

“My parts to fix my gun are ready,” he says to Stan.  “I’ve gotta get going.  But… thanks, I guess.  It was nice to meet you, and have a drink, and…” he looks around, and his words are stolen for another moment.  Eventually, he just finishes “���this.”

Stan gives him a long look, then just nods.

Ford moves the gun’s settings carefully, and when he fires it, it shows him the right dimension.

It’s just as he’s about to step through that Stan speaks again.

“You could come with me, you know,” he says.  “We could hunt for treasure and adventure, like we always said we would.  Even if we’re not technically the ones we said it to.”

This, Ford has been expecting, and he responds instantly and with ease.  “I can’t,” he says, turning to give Stan one last look.  “I have to try and defeat Bill.  I have to save the world.”

But rather than get angry, or sad, or doing anything that makes sense, Stan just sighs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “You always do, huh.”  He turns and starts back up the stairs towards the wheel, and Ford watches him go.  Stan gives no argument, doesn’t keep trying to convince Ford to come.

Ford doesn’t know what to say.  It’s the third time it’s happened, and that’s enough that he’s decided, he’s not a fan.  He would say it’s foolish to expect to know how a Stan from an alternate dimension would act, but so much about this version of his brother has been familiar enough to make Ford’s chest ache.  And yet, when it comes to the big things, the set-in-stone things, like the Stan-O-War, and Bill, and getting shoved into the multiverse for thirty years by someone Stan freely admits he thought put him here on purpose; when it comes to the conversations that Ford should absolutely know the path of, Stan reacts in the complete opposite way he expects, and it leaves Ford feeling lost and unsteady.

“I…” he says, reaching for something normal.  He fails.  “I don’t understand.”

Stan turns to face him.  There is so much sudden warmth and love in his gaze that it takes Ford’s breath away.

“That’s okay, Sixer,” Stan says.  “Just go try and save the world.  Come find me if you fail, okay?  I’ll still be here.”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that either.  After a second, he just turns and walks through to the other dimension, to get the parts he needs.

He turns one last time and watches Stan as the portal between them closes.  Stan smiles as it does, and then he’s gone.  He leaves Ford with a lump in his throat, an ache in his chest, and the feeling that he’s missed something important.

[lovelytsunoda]

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

[salem-witch-slut]

Behind Closed Doors (18+)

Ellie Williams x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Abby and Ellie are always at each other's throats and everyone can safely say that they hate each other. But no one ever sees what happens when the doors are closed and their hidden away from the world.

WARNINGS: Excessive swearing, dom!Abby, sub!Ellie, pussy eating, aggressive scissoring, hair pulling, spit swallowing, hate sex, no aftercare, Ellie being a rude bitch

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

A/N: I just love these two. This one was a personal favorite because it's just so damn dirty. This is NOT a continuation of Unrequited. Just a similar preface.

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Everything was going her way right now. She had woken up on time, she had enough time to take a shower even, and she was able to get breakfast before patrol! The sun was up, and the autumn air was comfortably cool, enough for her to wear her thin hoodie all day long. Everything was going good… And then she saw her assignment.

“Unfuckingbelievable…” Ellie’s hand went to the board where she saw she was running the Hoback Pass trail with… of all the people that she could go with, why was it her?

“Damn, you got Abby?” Ellie looked over her shoulder to see Jesse standing right behind her. A deep sigh left Ellie’s throat as she ran her entire hand across her face and tried to calm down. She knew it was too good to be true. And she knew that the second they were deep inside of the patrol route, her and Abby would be attacking each other like wild animals. It was always inevitable.

Shimmer was being pulled in from the paddock as Ellie went to retrieve her rifle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joel and Abby’s dad, Jerry, leaning against the fence on the far right with mugs in their hands and casually talking, clearly enjoying their day off. Ellie envied them, but at the same time she felt bad for Jerry. He had the world’s bitchiest daughter.

“Where even is she?” Ellie checked the chamber of her rifle and made sure it was loaded before a hand curled around the barrel. A very large, veined hand that she could recognize with her fucking eyes closed.

“Don’t fall in the lake again,” Abby remarked, her hair in that same stupid braid it always was. She was wearing a flannel that she cut the sleeves off of and underneath was a black compression shirt with a few tears near the collar. She sure was adapting to that Wyoming fashion after being here for like… five years now.

“Oh my, god, that was one time,” Ellie rolled her eyes and yanked the rifle out of her hand, slinging it over her shoulder with her backpack. Abby simply scowled and went to get her own rifle while retrieving her horse.

As usual, Jesse gave the morning talk like he always did before he jumped onto his horse and the gates opened up. Ellie noticed that Dina was riding with Manny today; that’s good. They got along great and shared stories about Mexico, and New Mexico.

Ellie looked at her partner and saw that Abby seemed more than eager to get this patrol started. What was going through her mind right now?

“You ready for this?” Ellie scooted Shimmer closer to Abby’s stallion, Artax.

Abby looked over at Ellie, and smirked. “Try to stay quiet this time.”

Attacking each other like wild animals was almost an understatement…

Everything was going like normal, with Ellie and Abby clearing out their routes, taking down any infected that was nearby and making sure the paths were clear… And as soon as they reached their first lookout, Abby snapped.

Seconds after Ellie signed them in, Abby was pushing her face down into the table and grabbing a fistful of her auburn hair, leaning down low enough to whisper into her ear in just the right way that it drove Ellie crazy every time. “Wore those fucking jeans on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ellie couldn’t stop herself from whining from Abby’s gravelly voice, basking in the warmth from her body heat and leaning back against her. Ellie knew that the blonde loved these jeans, and for some reason, she just couldn’t help herself when grabbing them this morning. They hugged her ass almost perfectly.

“Y-you fuckin’ wish,” Ellie teased, her heart racing at Abby sliding her hands down in order to grip her ass with her immense strength. What was it about this damn woman that made Ellie want to submit but give attitude at the same time?

Abby’s veined hands slid into the back pocket of Ellie’s jeans before her thumbs traced the crease between her asscheeks, teasing the redhead to no end as she moved her hands down and dragged the tips of her fingers across the denim crotch. Abby didn’t miss the way Ellie shivered at her touch. And Ellie couldn’t hide how wet she was even if she tried.

“Fucking sad, isn’t it?” Abby taunted, her right hand sliding back up to grab at Ellie’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water. “You hate me… and I’m the only one that can fuck you good enough.”

“S-Shut up,” Ellie demanded. “J-Just stop fucking talking.”

“Oh, but you like it when I talk,” Abby taunted before her hand curled into the waistband of Ellie’s jeans and started yanking them down over her rear. For some reason, Ellie knew this would happen… and she had this sickening suspicion that Abby was prepared this. “You love it when I degrade the fuck out of you and split you open on my fingers, don’t you?”

Ellie stayed quiet, trying to deny her and biting down on her lip in order to stifle the sounds that were escaping her against her will. Abby wasn’t having it. Her massive hand came down and smacked directly against Ellie’s ass. A loud yelp left her and she looked over her shoulder and stared Abby down with a simmering glare. Abby was grinning.

If Ellie wasn’t careful, Abby might get angry enough to rip her jeans in the process… it’s happened a few times in the past before, and that was an awkward walk back to Jackson. Falling in the river? Yeah, that’s why she trashed her jeans, not because the seam was ripped right over her cunt so Abby could have easy access to her.

Tried to blame Ellie’s shaking legs on the cold water… But Abby knew the truth.

The blonde was waiting. She wanted to hear Ellie say how desperate she was for her, but Abby was going to need to try harder than that. She knew Ellie and knew that she was a stubborn little shit until the end.

Ellie tried to blame the sweating on the hot weather, but that wasn’t fully true. Her shirt was sticking to her bare skin uncomfortably, and normally Abby would have her almost completely naked by now, but the blonde was holding back. She was torturing her, and Ellie didn’t know if she loved it or hated it.

“You gonna say it?” Abby leaned down, her braid tickling the side of Ellie’s neck as she breathed against her skin. Ellie scowled, looking at Abby with narrowed eyes and resisting the urge to spit on her cheek like she’s done in the past. Their dynamic was so fucked, but so much fun that they just couldn’t stop themselves from sinking into madness. When Ellie curled her lips downward into a mocking snarl, Abby scoffed and grabbed a fistful of her hair once again, yanking her off the table and pushing her down onto the couch against the wall.

Ellie can’t even remember the number of times they fucked on this couch. And now another one was about to be added to their mental list. Abby put the sole of her boot into Ellie’s chest, forcing her to lean all the way back against the couch. Once she was satisfied, Abby removed her foot and stepped forward, standing between the auburn-haired girl’s legs and reaching down with her right hand.

“Open,” Abby demanded, her fingers gripping Ellie’s jaw as she huffed, and denied Abby what she wanted. In retaliation, Abby lightly swatted her cheek with her hand, forcing Ellie’s head to cock to the left as she whined. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

Ellie opened her mouth, and Abby immediately slipped her fingers in, dragging her index and middle digit across her tongue and teasing her mouth in the most torturous way possible. Ellie drooled, saliva slipping from her tongue and down her neck as Abby pushed her fingers a little further into her mouth and made the girl gag.

“That’s it, good girl,” Abby praised, seeing the way Ellie shivered when she gave her the positive words. She knew that Ellie loved it when she praised her, but Abby loved to tease… And she loved to degrade. And while Ellie loved sweet words of affirmation, she also loved being treated like a slut sometimes… and by sometimes, she means every time with Abby. “Head back… just like that…”

Ellie sat there obediently and whined as Abby leaned forward and mercilessly spit into Ellie’s open mouth. Ellie’s heart was racing with every passing second as she did exactly what the blonde wanted. Abby pressed a kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips and released her jaw. “Swallow.”

She gulped without a word of disobedience.

“Oh, fuck this,” Abby looked frantic as she got down on her knees in front of Ellie and began yanking down the girl’s jeans as fast as she possibly could. She almost ripped the denim, wrestling with Ellie’s dumb converse as she yanked them off and left her in just her shirt and socks before leaning down and grabbing Ellie’s thighs with both hands. The veins flexed in her forearms and Ellie huffed pathetically.

They’ve done this dance so many times before. Ellie was so familiar with Abby’s touch by now that she knew what to expect when the woman was desperate. Her tensed fingers gripping at Ellie’s flesh was making her tremble with anticipation as the blonde dived down like she couldn’t take it anymore. It was only a few seconds before Abby’s tongue was on Ellie’s pussy.

“OhmyGOD,” Ellie arched upward, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she fell against the back of the couch. It always felt like the first time, and she could never get enough of the blonde’s mouth on her for as long as she lived. Ellie looked down, seeing how Abby’s brows were pulled in almost anger as she lapped her cunt from her hole to her clit, drinking in her arousal and pushing her legs up so Ellie’s knees nearly touched her shoulders.

Abby loved being in control. She had no problem folding Ellie’s limbs around so it was easier for her to take advantage of her body and have her lay in the perfect way so she could reach her deepest parts and get Ellie to make the sweetest sounds. Not once had Ellie topped Abby, but it didn’t seem like an issue. She always made Abby cum so it didn’t matter… Ellie loved being used by her like this. It was a part of her that she was allowed to lose and give to someone else; a piece of control she could relinquish willingly to the strongest person she knows.

Ellie didn’t voice that she trusted Abby, but it was wordlessly affirmed for her almost every time.

Abby was drowning in her. Ellie’s heavy taste was making her moan, her tongue dancing between the girl’s slick folds and feasting on her pussy like she was the most delicious thing she’s ever put in her mouth. Ellie wasn’t allowed to touch her yet… not until Abby said so.

The blonde’s fingers squeezed her thighs harder, and Ellie let out a squeak that was so pathetic, Abby almost felt mercy for a second. She broke away from her core for a small second, panting and looking down at how the girl’s cunt was glistening with pleasure and her drool. God, Ellie was so fucking hot that it was painful. Abby was ignoring the pulse in her own cunt as she looked up and latched her lips around Ellie’s clit, sucking hard and making Ellie’s body jerk forward off the couch.

“FUCK!” She sounded like she was in pain, her eyes squeezing shut and her thighs shaking as she bent forward and wrapped her arms around Abby’s head. Fuck the rules, she wouldn’t survive this if she couldn’t touch her. Abby allowed it, and hummed with approval at Ellie’s nails scratching on her scalp. “Fuck, shit… A-Abby…”

The blonde wiggled her head from side to side as her tongue provided delicious stimulation for the tattooed girl at her mercy. She was drowning and loving every second of this… but Abby wanted more. Oh, she wanted so much more that it was painful.

Ellie was in ecstasy, but it was immediately ripped away when Abby broke off from her cunt and leaned back, looking at her and bringing her strong hand down to deliver a swat to her glistening pussy, right over her exposed clit. Ellie screamed, and immediately covered her mouth. If she was any fucking louder, the lookout would be swarming with infected… that would be beyond embarrassing to explain to everybody.

“Abby w-what the fuck is—” Ellie complained, now angry that the blonde stopped. But her complaints died on her mouth when she saw Abby stand up and unbuckle the belt on her hips, pushing her cargo pants down and unlacing her boots. “Can’t wait, huh? I’m that irresistible?”

“Shut up,” Abby bit back, grabbing at Ellie and pulling her off the couch. She laid her down over the sleeping bag that was left from the last patrol that had to stay here, pushing her down onto the ground and kicking her boots off, along with the jeans and underwear hanging off her ankles. “Shut up and do what I fucking say for once.”

“And if I don’t?” Ellie barked, staring Abby down with a fire behind her eyes. Abby didn’t like that answer and she immediately began to pull away, almost like she was about to get dressed again. Ellie began to panic, and she reached out, gripping Abby by the front of her shirt. “Okay, okay, you win!  Fuck, I’ll do whatever you say, just please—”

Abby smirked, caging Ellie with her arms for a brief moment as she bent down and captured Ellie’s lips with her own. The kiss was soft, gentle, the opposite of what these two were with each other. That was one thing that always felt wrong, but so right… It didn’t matter how hard Abby fucked her, or how aggressive she was with her… Ellie always gave her the sweetest kisses that had Abby’s heart racing and it made her tremble with some forbidden emotion that she swore she didn’t feel for Ellie.

“You even beg like a whore,” Abby teased, resulting in Ellie biting her bottom lip. The blonde responded with gripping Ellie’s hips and pushing her upward a little before she used her right knee to lift the girl’s leg up a bit. “Come on, behave. Leg up, on my shoulder.”

Ellie obeyed, and she wasn’t sure if it was because her cunt was pulsing angrily, or because Abby smelled so good when she leaned forward and trailed her lips down the outer column of her neck. Ellie lifted up her leg, resting her calf against Abby’s broad shoulder as the blonde wasted no time in crawling over her body and slotting herself perfectly between Ellie’s legs.

“God, just fucking look at you,” Abby taunted, dropping forward and listening to the way Ellie groaned as she felt the blonde’s slick cunt slide against her own dripping pussy. Why did these two completely opposite women fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces from different boxes? Abby reached forward and pushed Ellie’s bangs out of her face, basking in how her green eyes sparkled with tears that threatened to fall. “You want me to fuck you so bad, you look stupid.”

“T-Then fucking do it already,” Ellie snapped, her fists curling into the front of Abby’s shirt as she yanked her down, veins bulging from her hands as she showed that aggression that Abby adored in her little spitfire so much. “Fuck me like you fucking mean it.”

Abby fell forward, her hands slamming into the floor behind Ellie’s head as she rutted down against her. The mix of their juices together provided the most perfect friction that Ellie couldn’t stop moaning, even for a second.

Normally she wasn’t this loud, but for some reason today, Ellie was overly whiny and vocal. It was like she was more sensitive than normal, and everything that Abby did was sending her into overdrive. She was wetter, her heart was racing faster, and her muscles were trembling with every single thrust of Abby’s cunt against her own.

Ellie reached up, grabbing the back of Abby’s neck and biting her lip as she did everything in her power to stifle her sounds, but it just felt too fucking good, and she didn’t even sound like herself! Ellie has never made these kinds of noises before in her life… Abby was practically drooling.

Everything was going just how Abby wanted it… and then Ellie grabbed her braid. A rough yank to her hair had Abby’s head snapping back and she gaped, eyes widening as she looked down and stared into Ellie’s green irises that seemed almost playful as she tugged on the braid again.

It was like a trigger as Abby just moved her hips faster, and ground herself down against Ellie’s cunt harder. She felt Ellie’s clit rub against her own in the most perfect way that Abby’s pace was beginning to falter, and her hips started stuttering. She hasn’t been able to cum in almost a week… Abby was just as sensitive as Ellie.

“Shit, El…” Abby huffed, her heart slamming against her ribs as Ellie’s fingers began aggressively curling in her hair. It didn’t take long for Ellie to unravel the braid, long blonde waves falling over and framing her face in golden curtains. Ellie loved seeing Abby with her hair down… it made her look even more beautiful than before. “Fuck… b-better cum f’me…”

“A-Abby… Abby, please…” Ellie sobbed, falling back to the ground. One of her arms went over her eyes and she arched off the floor, trying to meet Abby’s movements and slip herself along the blonde’s beautiful pussy. Abby was having none of it.

“No,” She grabbed Ellie’s wrist, pushing both arms down onto the floor and towering over her. She was really testing how far Ellie could stretch as she nearly forced the girl into a split. “Don’t you f-fucking dare look away from me… Want you to look me in the eyes… w-when you fucking cum— Jesus christ…”

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to disobey even if she wanted to. It was like a hot shower after falling in a frozen lake. It warmed her from the outside in, sending Ellie into sudden trembles that quickly took over her entire body.

“Fuckfuck— Ohmygod Abbyyyyyy…!” Ellie pressed her forehead against the blonde’s her eyes rolling back as her orgasm brought her to literal tears. Abby wasn’t far behind as she rutted against Ellie’s cunt that was getting wetter and wetter with every second.

Abby stopped moving, her hips jerking forward as low, violent groans of pleasure left her throat. “F-Fucking take it, baby… Making a fucking mess of this pussy…”

She could only hold herself up for so long. It didn’t take much for Abby to fall, her arms giving out as she pushed her face into Ellie’s sweat stained shirt. She carefully moved Ellie’s leg, listening to the poor girl cry out as her thigh cramped up and she fully lowered her limb down onto the floor. Her breath was labored, and her heart was racing and pounding hard enough that Abby could hear it and feel it against her face.

Both of them were quiet for a long time… What exactly are they supposed to say about it? It was always slightly awkward after they fucked each other speechless. This part never got any easier to deal with. A sigh left Abby’s throat as she looked up, trying to gauge Ellie’s expressions, but as always, she was an expert at schooling how she was feeling on the outside.

“You okay?” Abby asked, sitting up slowly and looking into Ellie’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated and to anybody else, they could assume she had gotten high. Abby began to remove herself from Ellie, her face turning red at how their bodies stuck together in the most vulgar fashion. “Ellie, are you—”

“I���m fine,” Ellie remarked, rubbing at her face with both hands as she sat up off the floor, only to fall back on her palms when a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I’m always fine…”

“Yeah,” Abby muttered wordlessly, reaching for a towel inside of the emergency duffel bag that was kept at every lookout. She slowly wiped off her inner thighs and stomach before she went to clean Ellie up, only for the redhead to stop her. “Would you just—”

“I’m not a fucking baby, I can do it myself,” Ellie snapped, wiping her legs off and making sure the remnants of Abby’s slick wasn’t left on any part of her skin. “See? Fully capable.”

“Just…” Abby looked like she had more to say. Ellie waited, pressing her thighs together to try and regain some sort of modesty, but Abby just scoffed, reaching for her jeans and tugging them back on. Ellie looked disappointed. “We gotta get moving.”

Ellie knew she was the one in the wrong. Abby always tried this every time. She would ask if Ellie was okay, and if she needed anything. Abby always tried to clean her up, whisper words of praise, even tried to kiss her once when it was over… But Ellie wasn’t having it. She was cold, aggressive, and pushed all forms of aftercare away from the blonde like being fucked by her was the worst thing she could think of.

Abby refused to tell Ellie just how much it hurt her. Every time Ellie denied her advances, Abby felt her heart ache all over again… Funny, isn’t it? How the biggest, baddest person in Jackson is the one pining after the rudest bitch to ever walk the streets.

Abby was embarrassed for the rest of the patrol route. She felt angry, dirty even, as she watched her patrol partner act and kill like nothing had happened, and nothing was wrong. Like she didn’t just have Abby all over her and against her…

Would Ellie ever let Abby in? Would Abby ever stop simping for Ellie? Or the bigger question…

Would they ever admit to themselves just how badly they were in love with each other?

[pucksandpower]

Playing Cupid

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: convinced that you and Max must be the most oblivious people on earth, the rest of the grid decide to take matters into their own hands

“Hey, I bet I can beat you to the debrief room!” Max’s voice carries through the paddock, his familiar smile in place.

You roll your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. “You always say that and yet here we are.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face, “Optimism, it’s just part of my charm.”

“You mean your delusion?” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

There’s a pause as you both make your way, the chatter of crew members a steady background hum as Max’s laughter and your shared jokes create a bubble around the two of you.

“You two are like the dynamic duo of Red Bull,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall with his signature grin stretching across his face. “Batman and Robin vibes.”

You glance at Max, raising an eyebrow. “Batman and Robin? More like Tom and Jerry.”

Max snorts. “Which one am I?”

“Definitely Tom. Always chasing but never quite catching up.” You stick out your tongue playfully.

Daniel shakes his head with a laugh, “The chemistry though! It’s electric. The entire grid sees it.”

You look puzzled, glancing at Max whose face mirrors your own. “What are you on about, Danny?”

Before he can reply, Max’s race engineer joins in, “He’s not wrong. It’s like watching two magnets circle each other, not knowing they’re meant to connect.”

Max shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed at GP’s observation, “We’re just good friends. Teammates. That’s all.”

You nod in agreement. “Exactly! Just because we joke around doesn’t mean—”

“—there’s anything more,” Max finishes for you, the two of you so in sync it makes GP and Daniel exchange amused glances.

“Whatever you say,” GP chuckles.

The day wears on, filled with the usual press conferences, race strategies, and banter. But now, there’s an underlying hum, a question that seems to have spread among the drivers and teams: what if?

In the evening, as you’re about to make your way back to the hotel, Lewis sidles up to you. “You and Max, huh? That’s something. The fans will love it.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re just teammates. That’s all.”

He winks. “For now.”

You just laugh it off, not sure how to respond.

Later that night, you and Max find yourselves in a private corner of your hotel restaurant, both tired but satisfied. “Did Lewis say something weird to you too?” Max asks, sipping his drink.

You nod. “About us. I mean, we’re close, but all this talk ... it’s a bit strange, right?”

He sighs, “Yeah. Just because two people get along doesn’t mean they’re ... you know, together together.”

You chuckle. “Exactly. We’re friends. Best friends. That’s all.”

***

“Truth or dare!” The booming voice with an enthusiastic Australian accent echoes across the lounge where a few of the drivers have gathered post-qualifying, hoping to unwind.

Max groans from beside you. “Do we have to? Every time it ends up embarrassing at least one of us.”

You nudge him, laughing. “Oh, come on. Scared of a little dare, Verstappen?”

Daniel’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Exactly. What are you so afraid of, Maxie? Maybe revealing a certain ... secret?”

Lando, lounging on a sofa, chips in, “Or maybe singing a serenade for a certain someone?”

Max’s cheeks turn a shade redder while you feel your own face heat up. “I think Danny and Lando are in cahoots,” you whisper to Max, who chuckles in agreement.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes, “Truth or dare. Bring it on.”

Daniel’s smile widens even further, a clear sign that he’s up to no good. “Okay, Max. Truth or dare?”

Max hesitates for a split second. “Dare.”

Daniel rubs his hands together with a surprisingly convincing evil smirk. “I dare you to serenade ...” He deliberately drags out the suspense, glancing around the room before pointing directly at you, “... your lovely teammate here.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. “Oh, this is going to be good!”

Max looks at you apologetically but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, alright. What song?”

You shake your head, already giggling in anticipation of what is to come. “Surprise me.”

Gathering courage, Max stands up, clearing his throat dramatically. He looks right into your eyes, a playful glint in his, and starts singing “I Want It That Way” … mostly.

“Tell me why … I keep crashing into walls. Tell me why … I can’t seem to win them all. Tell me why … I never want to hear you say, box box box box box.”

You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face. The room is filled with laughter, claps, and a few playful boos (mostly from Charles who seem partially traumatized by the mention of boxing).

“That’s officially the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your words.

Max takes a bow, still red-faced. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

As the night winds down and the group starts to disperse, Daniel sidles up to you. “Soooooo …. did the serenade work?”

You laugh, “It was entertaining, to say the least. But Max and I ...” You trail off, not sure how to put your relationship into words.

“It’s alright,” Daniel nods understandingly and for a moment you actually think he might stop scheming to get the two of you together. But then he winks, “Sometimes the best things take time.”

***

“Formula 1 is as much about connections off the track as it is on,” Lewis begins, his voice smooth, measured, a practiced art in front of the cameras during the press conference. Flashbulbs click and reporters scribble notes. “Sometimes those connections are ... more than what meets the eye. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You raise an eyebrow. Next to you, Max shuffles slightly awkwardly.

Before you can answer, Lewis continues, eyes glinting with mischief, “For instance, teams with two drivers who might be ... more than just teammates?” His gaze flits subtly between you and Max, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

Max laughs it off. “Talking about you and George? Or was it back with Nico?”

A ripple of laughter flows through the conference room and you bite back a smile, appreciating Max’s deflection.

Lewis grins, completely unfazed. “Good one. But no, I’ve heard some rumors about another team ... one that rhymes with Bed Rull, perhaps?”

Now you feel the need to intervene, “Rumors are just that, Lewis. Rumors. Max and I are teammates, good friends. Nothing more.” You keep your voice light but firm.

“But isn’t it interesting,” Lewis ponders aloud, “how two people can spend so much time together, share so many experiences, practically think with the same brain, and still not notice a ... deeper connection?”

Max’s eyes meet yours briefly, a momentary search for an answer, a reaction perhaps. But as quick as the look is, it’s gone.

After finishing up with media, Charles shoots a dimpled smile your way. “Quite the interview by Lewis, huh? He’s not usually one for gossip.”

You laugh. “Trying to stir the pot, I guess. Maybe he’s bored? Everyone loves a good love story.”

Charles nods, his gaze a bit more serious. “But sometimes … sometimes rumors are built on a foundation of truth. Even if you don’t see it.”

You mull over his words but before you can respond, Max joins the conversation. “Is everyone becoming a relationship expert these days or something?”

Charles just shrugs with an impish grin. “Maybe we all just want to see our friends happy.”

The comment gives you pause. Is that all this is? Friendly teasing? Or is there something more you’re missing? Something right in front of you that you’re not seeing?

But for now, as you and Max head back towards the Red Bull motorhome, you push those thoughts aside, determined to focus on the upcoming race and the challenge it presents.

***

“Fancy seeing you here!” Your team principal greets you, his tone feigning surprise as you walk into the upscale restaurant.

Max squints at him suspiciously. “You invited us both here, Christian.”

“Yes, a lovely team dinner. Just the three of us,” Christian confirms with an overly innocent smile as he guides you both to a table by the window.

The setting is intimate, with soft lighting and plush seating. A live harpist is serenading diners. It’s definitely not your typical “team dinner.”

“Christian,” you muse aloud, “this place looks a tad extravagant for a casual dinner, does it not?”

He shrugs, a smile still in place. “Consider it a treat for the team’s recent successes.”

Before you can continue your line of questioning, a waiter approaches to take your orders. You and Max share a conspiratorial glance.

“I’ll have the lobster bisque to start. With extra lobster,” Max begins, deciding to indulge.

“I’ll take the osetra caviar. You can bring the entire tin. With extra blini,” you add, grinning as you see Christian’s eyes widen.

Christian clears his throat. “Well, I actually just remembered an urgent call I have to take. Enjoy the meal, you two.” And with that, he hurries away, leaving you both chuckling.

Max leans in with a whisper, “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Absolutely. Let’s make him pay ... literally. He did say it’s on him.”

Safe to say that you both enjoy the finest dishes the restaurant has to offer. “At this rate,” you joke as the waiter opens your second bottle of ridiculously expensive wine, “Red Bull is going to break the budget cap because of catering. Again.”

Throughout the meal, you and Max discuss the recent upgrades to your cars, dissecting each detail with genuine interest and passion. The conversation flows easily but is entirely centered on racing.

Unbeknownst to you both, scattered around the restaurant are various team members and drivers in disguises, watching your every move. From Daniel donning a fake mustache as he pretends to be a waiter to Yuki wearing a chef’s hat peeking out of the kitchen, they’re all there and all invested in the outcome of the evening.

From his spot behind the bar, Lando, sporting a terrible wig, groans. “They’re just talking about tire degradation! This is so frustrating.”

Charles, disguised as a saxophonist with a carefully trimmed goatee, chimes in, “I thought this would be it. This setting is perfect.”

Back at your table, you raise your glass. “To another successful season and having amazing teammates.”

Max clinks his glass against yours, laughing. “Cheers to that!”

As you leave, completely oblivious to your undercover audience, the collective sigh of exasperation from the team members is almost audible even over the live music.

***

“What’s this?” You lift the elegantly wrapped package from your locker, examining the tag which reads: From Fernando - Enjoy the relaxation.

Max, peering over your shoulder, also pulls out a similar package from his locker. “Looks like we both got gifts.”

Ripping open the delicate paper, you pull out a luxurious pamphlet. The cover boasts a serene image of a spa, complete with candle-lit rooms and peaceful landscapes. Max’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s got the same one.

“A couples spa retreat?” Max reads aloud, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Really?”

Fernando, passing by at that exact moment, grins cheekily. “Thought you two could use some relaxation and a day off the track.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” you reply, peering up at him skeptically, “But why a couples retreat?”

Fernando shrugs, the picture of innocence. “It had the best reviews. Just trying to be a good friend.”

Max laughs, rolling his eyes. “Well, thanks for the ... thoughtful gift. Might as well use it.”

And so, you find yourself at the spa, wrapped in plush robes as the gentle hum of soft music and flowing water fills the air.

Max, his feet soaking in a warm tub and a clay mask setting on his face, looks over at you. “You think this was another one of their schemes to get us together?”

You laugh, dipping your toes into the fragrant water. “At this point, nothing would surprise me.”

The day goes on with various treatments — massages, scrubs, and mud baths. But instead of talking about personal lives or diving deep into emotions, you both end up discussing the possible benefits of the treatments.

“You know,” Max muses as he receives a deep tissue massage, “this technique might help with muscle fatigue after long races.”

You, getting a foot massage, nod in agreement. “Absolutely. And the mud bath we took earlier? Might help with detoxifying after particularly sweaty race weekends.”

The spa therapists, used to couples sharing intimate moments, are clearly bemused by your discussions.

Later, as you both relax in the sauna, Fernando sneaks a peek through a small window, hoping to catch a romantic moment. But to his chagrin, he finds you both animatedly discussing the aerodynamics of your cars.

“Did you notice the slight drag on the left during the last turn?” You ask, wiping away sweat.

Max nods. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. We need to discuss that with the team.”

Fernando sighs, leaning against the wall outside the sauna. “They’re hopeless,” he mutters to himself.

He approaches you both later, looking slightly defeated. “So, the spa day? Did it perhaps help ... bring you two closer?”

You smile, patting him on the shoulder. “It was amazing for our driving techniques. Thanks, Fernando.”

Max nods in agreement, “Best spa day ever. We’re thinking of making it a regular thing.”

Fernando groans, realizing that his plan, like all the others, has somehow backfired. “I give up. You two are impossible.”

***

“Beach volleyball? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, looking at the makeshift court that Lando and George have set up on the sand.

George grins, passing a volleyball between his hands. “Thought it’d be a fun way to unwind. And we’ve set the teams so it’s fair and ... interesting.”

Lando winks. “You and Y/N are paired up, of course. We thought you two could use some quality time together.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk that forms on your lips. “Let me guess, another one of your schemes to play matchmaker?”

Lando feigns shock. “Us? We would never.”

You laugh, pulling Max towards your side of the makeshift court. “Alright then, let’s do this. Prepare to be schooled, boys.”

What was meant to be a friendly match quickly turns intense. Max and you make a formidable team. The chemistry on the track seamlessly transitions to the sand, both of you equally competitive and always anticipating the other’s next moves.

“I didn’t know you two were this good!” George pants, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You wink at him, taking your position. “There’s a lot you don’t know about us.”

Neither you nor Max are willing to give an inch. Diving saves, powerful spikes, and clever feints — you both are in it to win it.

Lando, gasping and covered in sand, mutters to George, “This was supposed to be fun. Not an Olympic match.”

The final point arrives, with you and Max at an advantage. Lando, attempting a weak serve, sends the ball perfectly to you. With a powerful run-up, you spike the ball back directly towards him. It’s fast, precise, and ... it ends up hitting Lando square in his balls.

He collapses on the hot sand, groaning. The surrounding crowd winces empathetically but you and Max? You both burst into uncontrollable laughter, falling to your knees for an entirely different reason.

“Lando!” George rushes to his side, a mix of concern and amusement on his face.

Still on the ground, Lando whines, “There go my chances of ever having kids.”

Max, between fits of laughter, manages to say, “Sorry, mate. But that was ... epic.”

You nod in agreement, offering Lando a hand. “Next time, be prepared if you’re going to challenge us. We don’t do things by halves.”

Lando takes your hand to pull himself up. “Noted. No more volleyball with you two.”

***

“Whoa,” Max blinks, staring at his phone screen. “Did you just text me?”

You frown, looking up from your own phone. “No, why?”

He shows you the screen where a message pops up, supposedly from you:

I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think I have feelings for you

Your eyes widen in shock. “I definitely didn’t send that. Wait …” You check your phone, finding a similar message supposedly from Max:

Ever since we became teammates, I’ve felt something more

Do you feel the same?

Confused, you show Max the message. The two of you exchange bewildered glances. “What is happening?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

You shake your head. “Someone must think it’s funny to play a game with us.”

From a distance, behind the pit wall, Pierre Gasly is trying hard to suppress his laughter, watching the two of you. He nudges Charles who is next to him. “Do you think they bought it?”

Charles grins, “Knowing those two, they will probably figure it out. But it was worth the shot.”

Back at your spot, Max raises an eyebrow, “Did you by any chance get a new number recently?”

You nod. “Yeah, last week. Remember I gave it to you when we flew in? But only the team and our friends have it. Who would pull such a prank?”

Max smirks, “I have a few suspects in mind.”

You both decide to play along, typing away furiously. Max’s smirk grows wider with every passing second. “Let’s see how much our prankster likes the cards being reversed.”

Minutes later, Pierre’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from Max:

I’m so relieved you feel the same

How about dinner tonight?

Somewhere private?

Pierre’s eyes widen in surprise. He quickly checks your supposed response:

Of course I do!

Can’t believe we waited this long to admit our feelings

See you tonight? Let’s meet in the lobby for drinks and maybe dessert if you’re lucky ❤️

Pierre gulps, shooting a panicked look at Charles. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Charles snickers. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Later in the day, Pierre approaches with guilt basically stamped across his forehead. “Look, about the texts you got …”

You grin. “Figured it out, did you?”

Max chuckles, clapping Pierre on the back. “Nice try but despite what you may think, we’re not complete idiots. ”

Pierre sighs in relief. “Honestly, I thought I might have ignited something real for a moment there.”

You laugh, “I would hope any grand confession of love I receive happens through something other than sneaky texts.”

Pierre nods, smiling sheepishly. “Fair enough. But hey, if you ever do decide to go for a romantic dinner, let me know. It’s on me.”

Max grins, “Deal.”

***

The paddock is transformed. A massive screen is set up, loungers and bean bags are spread around, and fairy lights dangle from above as a large screen and projector take center stage.

“Rom-coms?” Max squints at the list Charles is holding, a collection of the cheesiest, most cliche romantic movies available.

Charles grins, unashamed. “Best way to set the mood, right?”

You laugh, “Still trying to make Lestappen happen?”

Charles blushes. “That was one time! Besides, I have moved on to more ... realistic goals.”

Lando pops up from behind a popcorn stand, “Like getting you two to finally see what’s right in front of you.”

You roll your eyes, playfully pelting a handful of popcorn at his head. “Enough with the matchmaking.”

The movie starts and it’s clear that every spot has been strategically taken, leaving just one chair available. Daniel points to your teammate with a deceivingly innocent expression, “Why don’t you sit on Max’s lap? Save space.”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Or you could give up your seat and come sit on my lap yourself.”

The surrounding drivers erupt in laughter as Daniel smiles widely, conceding the point. You both end up squeezing into the chair somehow.

As the movie plays, instead of getting swept up in the romance, you both start dissecting it.

“Why would she run in the rain after him? That’s just asking for pneumonia,” Max comments as the heroine dashes through a downpour.

You nod in agreement, “And those heels? Totally impractical. She should have changed into boots.”

Charles groans, burying his face in his hands. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

George pats his hair sympathetically, “You tried. That’s what matters.”

As the movie reaches its climax with a grand chase through the airport, you muse, “You know, airports have strict security. How did he even get to the gate without a boarding pass?”

Max nods, “And the plane? Totally off. They used the wrong model. That one can’t fly long-haul.”

Charles jumps up in exasperation. “That’s it! No more movies. You two are ridiculous.”

You grin, throwing an arm around Max. “Oh, come on. Admit it … you love us.”

Max chuckles, “Thanks for the movie night. Learned a lot about airport logistics and practical footwear.”

Charles sighs but a smile tugs at his lips. “We’re really not being paid enough for this.”

***

“Team-building exercise?” Max echoes. Both of you are seated in Christian’s office, a mysterious smile playing on the team principal’s lips.

Christian nods, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Dr. Amelia Foster, a top relationship expert.”

You exchange a hesitant glance with Max. “Relationship expert? But we’re not a couple.”

Dr. Foster chuckles, adjusting her glasses. “I’m not here for romantic purposes. I help partners of all kinds communicate better. Even teammates.”

Max leans forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

Christian clears his throat. “A simple session. See if there’s any room for improvement in your communication. I mean, you two are already a great team. Imagine if you were even better?”

Dr. Foster nods, opening her notebook. “Let’s start with a basic exercise. Max, describe how you feel when Y/N makes a risky move.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Concerned, I guess. I trust her skills but I also worry about her safety.”

You smile, touched. “And I feel proud when Max nails a difficult maneuver. He has an instinct during races that is unmatched.”

The session continues, delving into how you view each other’s strengths, weaknesses, and driving styles. As the conversation flows, Dr. Foster introduces various communication techniques.

“Now, let’s practice active listening,” she suggests. “Y/N, tell Max something, and Max, you’ll repeat it back in your own words.”

You nod. “Alright. Sometimes, when we’re racing side by side, I wish you would give me a tiny bit more space.”

Max considers then responds, “You’d like me to be a bit more cautious and ensure you have enough room during close races.”

Dr. Foster claps her hands. “Excellent! See? It’s about mutually understanding and validating each other’s perspectives.”

By the end of the session, both of you are genuinely engrossed in the exercises, seeing the potential benefits for your on-track dynamic.

As you both leave, Max turns to you, excitement in his eyes. “That technique where we visualize the other’s perspective? That could be a game-changer during races!”

You nod in agreement. “Absolutely! And the active listening can help during debriefs. Ensure we’re always on the same page.”

Christian, waiting outside, is initially hopeful upon seeing your animated discussion. “So, did the two of you ... connect?”

Max grins, “Oh, we did! I think our communication on the track is going to be better than ever.”

Christian sighs, realizing his matchmaking attempt has gone astray once again. “Not quite what I had in mind but I’ll take it for now.”

***

“I swear, rain at a race weekend is the universe’s way of telling us to slow down,” you quip, leaning back in your chair as the rain pours outside.

Max chuckles from his seat next to you. “Or it’s just weather. But I prefer your explanation.”

The sound of the rain has already lulled a group of mechanics to sleep. There’s an unexpected calm with the usual bustle of the race on hold.

You pull out your phone, browsing your music. “Let’s trade favorite songs. Bet I can surprise you with my taste.”

Max opens his own music app. “Challenge accepted.”

You play an indie track that has become your recent favorite. Max listens thoughtfully, “Never pegged you for an indie fan.”

You shrug, “Life’s full of surprises. Your turn.”

He selects a familiar classic rock track that makes you grin. “Bohemian Rhapsody? Really?”

He smirks, “Told you, surprises.”

“I’m mostly just surprised it’s not 33 Max Verstappen,” you tease.

As the afternoon stretches on, the music transitions to shared stories. You talk about your childhood, the early days of karting, the struggles, and triumphs. He shares his own tales, moments that shaped him, the highs and lows of his journey.

“Remember our first race as teammates?” He asks, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, “How could I forget? You almost ran me off the track.”

He chuckles, “Defensive driving. But you held your ground. Earned my respect that day.”

“And you earned mine,” you reminisce. “Not just as a driver but as a person.”

The atmosphere shifts, the mood turning contemplative. The stories become more personal, more intimate. You share your fears, dreams, and hopes. The raw honesty of the moment creates a bridge, a connection neither of you realized was missing.

Max looks at you, his gaze intense. “You know, despite all the teasing from the others, the setups, and the jokes, I never stopped to really see ... us.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’ve been so focused on the track, on our partnership as teammates, that I never paused to consider the possibility of ... something more.”

He reaches out to gently take your hand, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. “Maybe it’s time we did.”

You look into his eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back, and smile. “Maybe it is.”

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you both step onto the podium. The last race had been intense, with both of you claiming the top spots. Max, in first, and you, a close second. The excitement is contagious, the air electric.

Max turns to you, the gleam of victory in his eyes mirrored by another emotion that has been growing since that rainy day. Without another word, he pulls you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like a victory all on its own.

The crowd goes wild, cheering and whistling. But what draws your attention as you pull away, breathless, is the reaction of the grid below.

Lando jumps up, punching the air. “Yes!”

Charles grins, clapping his hands together. “Told you it’d happen on the podium!”

Daniel, laughing, shouts, “Pay up, everyone! I had this race in the betting pool.”

Confused, you turn to Max, who shrugs, just as out of the loop.

Later, as the celebrations continue, Pierre pulls you both aside, showing a clip on his phone. It’s a video from a few months ago, all the drivers and Christian huddled together, placing bets on a whiteboard labeled When Will Max and Y/N Finally Stop Being Blind?

You laugh, watching the clip. “Of course you all managed to turn our love life into a game.”

Max wraps an arm around you. “Well, they do say racing is all about strategy and timing.”

Lando approaches with a pout. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer? I was two races off.”

Daniel, counting his winnings, smirks. “Better luck next time.”

Christian shakes his head with a laugh but pulls both of you in for a hug. “Never thought I’d be so happy to lose 50 quid. Congrats, you two.”

Surrounded by the people who spent most of the season trying to make this happen, you realize that love, like racing, has its own unpredictable course. Because sometimes, the best races aren’t on the track. They’re the ones that lead to unexpected, beautiful destinations.

[darkbluekies]

Trick or treat, end in defeat

Yandere!female!mafia OC x reader

Summary: Halloween ends in a bloody game

Warnings: yandere, jealousy, threats, knives, guns, humiliation, killing, drugs, alcohol, sexual suggestions

Word count: 2.6k

She’s dressed as a dead 1920’s flapper girl. Her shoulder length black hair have been forced into wavy swirls, her dress bloodied down. You’ve taken for granted that she didn’t buy her blood at a hobby store. She was wearing white contacts in her eyes. You have dressed as a vampire without fake teeth. Jerry said that you look stupid with them on. 

“Who wants to make out with a vampire with dentures?” she mutters before grabbing the back of your neck to bring your face to her lips. “Not me.”

She devours your mouth. Kissing and sucking on everything she reaches. She has the ability to suck the air out of your lungs when kissing you, leaving you breathless and dizzy. 

“If you do something stupid tonight, baby, I’m going to show you what the ‘trick’ in trick or tret is”, she whispers against your lips. “Maybe I’ll use you skin as a pumpkin? But if you’re good, I will give you a treat. And I promise you’re going to like it.”

You’re going to be her cover for a mission, a halloween party where she is going to be handed an envelope with a list of locations for weapons and money by a man you have never heard of before. 

“What’s the treat?” you ask. 

“Me, of course”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Aren’t I a yummy treat when I look like this?”

She spins, giving you a full view of her costume. 

“It’s real blood … isn’t it?” you find yourself asking. 

“Of course it is. Come now, we have to leave.”

She grabs your hand and walks out of the apartment. Her boss has sent a car for the two of you in which you jump into the backseat. 

The car stops outside a club. The loud music can be heard out to the car, despite the doors being closed. Jerry jumps out and helps you out on the sidewalk. 

“Remember what I said, okay?” she says, looking into your eyes warningly. 

The white contacts makes her look manic. You nod and swallow. Jerry leads you into the club. Everywhere you look, you see Barbies, Jack Sparrows, Spidermen and sexy nurses. The music pounds in your ears and you’re sure that you’re going to leave the club with no hearing. Jerry takes you to a pair of round couches by the wall and sits you down. 

“What do you want to drink?” she asks you, mouth close to your ear to be heard. 

Her breath fans against your skin. 

“Whatever”, you reply. 

Jerry nods. 

“Stay here”, she tells you. “Don’t move.”

She disappears into the sea of pretenders. You look around, wondering how many in here are aware that this more than a dance floor this evening. Could the girl dressed as a tiger be aware that this is a meeting place for illegal dealing? Or the man dressed as a cowboy, is he in on it? How many eyes do Jerry have? And how many do her enemies have? Is the man in the zombie costume the one to deliver it? Or the one in an astronaut overall? 

Jerry returns with two drinks. One lime green and one black. 

“One if sour and one is cola”, she says. “Which one do you want?”

“The cola.”

She gives you the dark one. You take a sip and grimace. 

“Oh yeah, it has vodka in it”, she laughs.

“I can tell”, you cough. 

She takes a sip of her toxic green one and grimaces. 

“God, that’s undrinkable”, she mutters. 

A woman comes up to the table. She’s dressed as a pirate. 

“Do you want some?” she asks — clearly on something — and waves a little, clear bag with white powder in it. 

Jerry shoots her arm over you, as a barricade. 

“They don’t want anything from you”, she says coldly. 

The girl stumbles away. Jerry moves closer to you. Although she’s wearing her contacts, you can tell that she’s gotten that look in her eyes again. She’s alert, ready to lash out at anyone that comes near you. She grabs your jaw, turning your face to her.

“If anyone offers you something you better decline and tell them to get the fuck away, you’re not into that”, she tells you. 

You nod understandably. Jerry kisses your lips. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” you ask. “When will you meet your contact?”

“He said around midnight”, Jerry replies and you are about to point out that it’s almost two hours until then, but she continues talking. “But we had to get here some time before so that it doesn’t look like we’re here to get something and then leave. That way, it’ll look suspicious.”

“My head hurts already.”

Jerry lifts your glass to your lips. 

“If you drink some more you’ll feel better”, she says. 

She watches you gulp it down until the glass is empty. You cough, trying to get rid of the burning in your throat. The liquid leaves a warm trail through your body. 

It’s as if you can feel your head fog up, feel your body burn up. The air inside the club is hot from all the dancing people. The costume sticks onto your body

“My poor girl/boy”, Jerry coos and brushes your hair out of your face. “Feeling hot? You’re sweating.”

She leans in and kisses your temple, licking her lips of your sweat. Someone sits down on the couch beside you. Jerry is quick to make them leave. She pulls you even closer. Her nails dig into your hot skin. Jerry knows that you need to go out for fresh air, but there’s something about your look that makes her want to keep you here. Your eyelids hang heavy over your eyes, your glowing, sweaty skin and tired pout. It doesn’t take much to get you here, and yet she loves to see it every time. 

“Can I have a water?” you ask. 

“Wait here”, Jerry tells you. 

She disappears once more and returns with a glass of water. She feeds it to you as you rest against her shoulder. 

“You’re so cute when you’re drunk”, she chuckles.

Are you drunk? Or are you dying of heat? You can’t tell. But she was right. Your head isn’t hurting anymore. 

“There he is”, she suddenly says and stands up.

She turns to you, holding your jaw and directing your face up towards her. 

“You’re going to stay right here, do you get that?” she says. “I will be back in a little while, and you’re going to remain here, do you understand?”

You nod. Jerry gives your jaw a warning squeeze before walking off. You follow her with your eyes, seeing how her and a man dressed as a detective walks into a backroom. Something else catch your eyes. A man in a spiderman costume. A very familiar man. An old friend. You feel your heart skip a beat. Oh, how you’ve missed him. 

“Y/N!” he shouts out, happily and hurries over to the couch. 

You give a quick glance towards the door to the back room. Still closed. 

“It’s been so long!” he says and hugs you. “How are you?”

“I’m good”, you answer and clear your throat. 

You can’t tell a drunk man to go away without it becoming a scene … and this is a drunk friend. 

“I’ve been wondering what happened to you”, he said. “None of our friends have seen you for a while.”

If only you knew. 

You give the door a new glance. Closed. 

“I’ve been busy”, you say. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You force yourself not to glance at the door. Your heart beats inside your chest, causing a wave of fear induced nausea to reach your head. 

“We should do something soon”, the friend suggests. 

“Oh, sure”, you reply, knowing very well that it’ll never happen. 

But you can’t really tell them that the reason you’ll never do anything with him is because you have an insane girlfriend who is in the mafia. 

“What are you doing nowadays?” you ask. 

“I work at the bank”, he replies and laughs. “Basically their runnerboy.”

“What? You run their errands?”

“Pretty much.”

You tug at your lips, trying to imagine him run back forth between men in suits. You glance towards the door. Open. Your entire body goes cold, and for a few seconds you can’t hear anything. You look around, as in slow motion, trying to find her. She must already have seen you — talking with someone else, laughing with someone else. 

“What’s wrong?” the friend asks worriedly. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

You want to shout at him to stop being stupid, but he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly mortified. He can’t be blamed for anything. 

You, however, know what's going on … and you know that you have to save him before Jerry gets to him. But where is she?

“You have to go now”, you tell your friend and push him towards the exit. Your voice is short and direct, trying your best not to show how scared you are. 

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

“What are you doing?” your friend asks. “Stop pushing me.”

“You have to leave”, you try again. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m trying to save your life!”

“What?”

“Just walk!”

You manage to get him out of the club, out into the fresh air. Quickly, you look around. Jerry’s nowhere to be seen. You don’t want to leave your friend before you’re sure that he will be okay. If you leave him now, you won’t know if he will be okay.

There is only one thought in your head. WHERE IS JERRY?

 “Listen to me”, you say and grab your friend, forcing him to look at you. “Listen closely, okay? I don’t know how long I have. You have to leave. You have to run. If we’re lucky, she didn’t get a good look at you.”

“Who? Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself. Please believe me. Just go. Now. Run. Please.”

The words seem to have trouble coming out. The man frowns, but starts to back away before turning around and running away. You dare breathe out, but the relief don’t last long. Someone grabs a handful of your hair and force your head backwards, cutting off the air in your throat. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Jerry hisses in your ear. 

“N-No one”, you manage to choke out. 

“Oh, so now I need to go to the optician?” Something sharp presses against your throat. “I’m asking again: who was that?”

“J-Jerr-” You can’t get anything past the bending point in your throat.

The knife presses closer to your skin. 

“Did you find him hot?” she asks teasingly, but with a sharp anger in her voice. “Did you want him to fuck you?”

You shake your head frantically. 

“I know that’s right”, she says and lets you go. 

You cough and desperately heap in air. You stumble forward with dark spots dancing over your vision. Before you have the time to register that she’s let you go, she’s pushed you up against the brick wall and put the knife against your chest. 

“I didn’t know my pet was a little news reporter”, she scoffs. “Talking to people left and right.”

“He was a friend”, you breathe out. “Someone I knew from school!”

“Mm, and I guess that you were so happy to see him again?”

“Jerry-”

“You either love the attention or to piss me off.” She tilts her head. “Where did he go?”

“I won’t let you hurt him. He did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, he did nothing wrong, did he? I saw him clinging onto something that belongs to me! I think that’s a bit fucking wrong, don’t you?”

“Jerry, I swear that I told him to go away.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I saw quite a lot, actually. I saw too much and it made me fucking nauseous.”

“Jerry, please …”

“Mm, I love it when you beg.”

“I’ll beg all you want if you spare him.”

She uses the knife to point onto the ground. 

“Down on your knees.”

You sink down on your knees and stand eye to eye with the point of the knife. 

“Beg”, Jerry orders you. 

You lick your lips, preparing yourself for this humiliating task. 

“Please”, you say and look up at her with the most innocent, pleading eyes you can muster. 

“You can do better than that, baby.”

“Jerry, please, I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?”

“Very. Please.”

Jerry grabs your jaw, smiling cockily. 

“You say ‘please’ so sweetly, how can I not forgive you?” she coos. “I will let him go … if I don’t find him until the night is over.”

“W-What?”

“It’s halloween, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we have some fun?”

“Jerry, please, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, h-he didn't know. It’s not like he tried to piss you off. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for that. Punish me instead. I shouldn’t have answered him, I should have ignored him.”

She stares down at you, clearly contemplating. 

“Please”, you beg weakly, hoping that your ‘sweet please’ will be enough to make her agree.

“Okay”, she says. “Let’s play a game. If you win, I’ll leave him be. If I win, I get to slaughter him and you have to watch me do it.”

“Can’t we have something else?”

“Like what?”

“If you win, I’ll do whatever you want for a week-”

“A year.”

“A-A year …”

“You know I can make you do whatever I want? I can decide to humiliate you for no reason at all.”

“I know. But I can’t have a human life on my consciousness. If you kill him, I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Aren’t you just adorable? Okay. Deal.”

You get to stand up. 

“What game do we play?” you ask.

“Russian Roulette”, Jerry decides. 

“W-Will one of us die?”

“Are you dumb? No, we’re not going to play with our lives. I have a guy we can use.”

She takes you to the HQ’s basement. You hate the HQ. A man sits on the floor, bloody and chained. Jerry picks up her gun and shakes out all bullets but one. She spins it and holds the gun towards you.

“Do you want the first try, my love?” she asks. 

“No”, you breathe out.

Jerry doesn’t hesitate before shooting the guy. You flinch and have to squeeze your eyes shut. The sight still haunts you. 

“Your turn”, Jerry says and presses the gun to your chest. “It was blank.”

“Fuck, Jerry …”, you whisper without opening your eyes. “This is insanity …”

“If you don’t shoot, you lose. Do it.”

You open your eyes slowly and take the gun in your shaking hands. You have a cold sweat. It’s a mistake to look at the man, one you regret immediately. His eyes are widened, taped mouth begging you not to shoot him.

“Jer-”

She stands behind you, holds her hand over yours and pulls the trigger. The following moments feel like an eternity. It’s blank. Your knees buckle and you stumble backwards. Jerry shoots. Blank. She holds the gun towards you. You shake your head and swallow thickly. 

“I give up, I can’t kill him”, you pant. 

“You might not kill him”, Jerry says and grins. “I might. Oh, the possibilities.”

“No …”

“Okay.”

Jerry lifts the gun and shoots until the bullet hits him. You swallow a scream and cover your head with your arms. She throws the gun on the cement floor. 

“I win”, she says in satisfaction. “Now, get those legs moving, the night is not over. On the contrary, it has just begun.”